


The Beauty of Broken

by sterekandsteterdarksexytime (lavieboheme0919)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Brothels, Dark, Derek is a nice guy, Detachable penises, Eventual Sterek, Fluid Sexuality, Forced Pregnancy, Former slave Chris, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Magic Revealed, Master Peter, Master Rafael, Master/Slave, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Peter is a manipulative asshole, Prostitution, Revenge, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Slavery, Shameless Smut, Slave Stiles Stilinski, Slave Trade, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, There's some plot leaking into this story, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, forced mating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1616993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavieboheme0919/pseuds/sterekandsteterdarksexytime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crimes are no longer punished by prison sentences, they're punished by terms of slavery. Stiles is purchased by the owner of a Sex Museum and Bordello and is looking at five years of nearly constant sex. Before now, this would have been great. But now Stiles really just wants to never have sex ever again. Unfortunately this isn't an option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bending

The prod stung as it touched Stiles’ side. “Keep it walking, slave.” The young male slaves were all marched into a room. They all looked sad and demoralized. The handlers would have been worried about the ones who didn’t. All of them had just undergone the detachment process. As a symbol of their transition into servitude, the emblem of their humanity and male-ness had been removed from their bodies. Each slave held a box with his penis in it.

The process had been surprisingly painless, and it was a standard procedure for those sentenced to slavery for any amount of time. Stiles had been sentenced to five years for assault. It was a standard sentence, but Stiles’ mitigating circumstances, he thought, should have spared him from slavery. Prisons had been closed for several decades now. The new way to punish those who committed crimes was forced servitude. Recidivism was nearly zero, with those who did offend again being permanently enslaved. It had the added benefit of raising money for the government, since all slaves were initially sold at auction, with all money benefitting the government. Slaves could be purchased and sold throughout their time in servitude with proceeds benefitting the seller, but there were rules associated with ownership of an indentured servant, like Stiles.

Indentured servants could not be permanently injured, though they could be tattooed so long as the area could be covered up by a shirt once the slave was free. His Serial Number had already been tattooed on the upper part of the inside of his right arm. The detachment process was a different story. It was permanent. A combination of science and magic had created a way to ensure complete obedience by traditionally the most ornery sex. Without a slave’s own penis being attached, he could not orgasm. With no visible genitalia, male slaves could also walk around naked, saving their owners money on clothing.

The slaves were herded into a room and ordered to stand in one of the display poses that they had been taught in their brief intro to servitude. They had orders to answer all questions with proper manners, which included the use of “Sir” and “Madam” before each response. The inspection was the first part of auction process. Prospective buyers would inspect each lot up for auction. There were even private rooms where those hoping to purchase a pleasure slave for personal or brothel use could “test drive” their new purchase first. Stiles’ status as a virgin protected him from that fate, but that didn’t stop some prospective buyers from bringing him to the private room to probe him with their index finger, then requiring him to give them handjobs.

After several hours, the handlers returned and herded them into another room where they were filed one-by-one to the auction block and sold. It seemed like forever until it was Stiles’ turn to be auctioned off. It was incredibly demoralizing. He hated every minute of it as he watched people bid for him like he was property… and for the next five years, he was. In the end, he was sold for $287,000 to the McCall-Hale Male Sexual Circus, Museum, and Bordello. He knew it was likely that he was chosen as a pleasure slave, but hoped that perhaps he would perform physical labor or do groundskeeping.

Another Handler led him from the stage to another room where his new Masters were waiting. Stiles had already been told that he would need to greet them and relinquish his penis. There was another slave already there. His Masters signed the paperwork and the Auction House transferred Stiles’ Title of Ownership from the State to the McCall-Hale Museum.

The new Masters walked Stiles and his fellow slave out to their limousine. The moment the door was closed, the one with light-brown hair and piercing blue eyes spoke. “I’m Master Peter. This is Master Rafael. You two are going to get to know each other very well. You’ll be staffing our new Staff Brothel.”

“But first, we’ll have to introduce you to the art of sex,” Master Rafael added. Both men pulled their penises from their trousers.

Master Peter pulled Stiles toward him. “It’s big,” Stiles commented, gulping with trepidation.

“It is,” he agreed. “But in time, while it’s in you it will feel as natural as your limbs. Cover your teeth with your lips and let your tongue run across the head.”

Stiles whimpered as he stared at it. “Please, sir… I’m a virgin. I was saving sex for someone special.”

Peter put a rough finger under Stiles’ chin, lifting it slightly so that their eyes met. “For the next five years, you’re my slave, Stiles. I am your Master and I am the most special person in your life. Every Master fucks his slave… especially the virgins.” Master Rafael let out a long moan as Danny bobbed up and down on his dick. Peter’s hand traced Stiles’ jaw line before moving to the back of his head. He grabbed a fistful of Stiles’ thick, brown hair and forced the slave’s mouth onto his cock. Stiles gagged and attempted to push away, but Peter held him, thrusting up into the slave’s mouth. “So hot… moist…. Soft… You know how to make Daddy feel good, don’t you slave?”

Both masters pulled the slaves off their dicks. Stiles was finding that he actually enjoyed the flavor of the precum that had been oozing from Peter’s. “It is a Pleasure Slave’s responsibility to ensure he is always lubricated and ready to be fucked by his Master,” Master Rafael told them as he motioned for them to turn around, stand on all fours, and present their asses. “This being your first time, we will lube you ourselves. The first few times you are fucked will hurt, but _your_ pleasure is not the goal. It is the goal of your Master… or the Free Person who is using you.”

“And without your cocks,” Master Peter added, “it will be impossible for you to come anyway.”

“I know I look scrawny, but I can do manual labor, sirs,” Stiles begged as he felt Peter push a slippery goo into him with two fingers. “I can also make a great secretary… but I don’t want to get fucked…”

“You’ll learn to love it,” Peter said dismissively as he worked his fingers in and out of Stiles. The two slaves looked at one another, wincing at the motion of the invasions. They clenched their fists when fingers were removed and they could feel the bulbous heads of their Masters’ cocks against their openings.

“If you think you can stop us by clenching, you’re wrong. You’ll just make it hurt more,” Master Rafael told them. “When we push in, you should push out a little and arc your back. Only clench when we withdraw. It will feel better for us and it will hurt less for you.”

Stiles inhaled steeply as he felt Peter push into him. His cock was so big, Stiles didn’t know how he’d be able to take it all… especially as a virgin. Both slaves cried out, tears streaming down their cheeks at both the way they were losing their virginity as well as the pain it was causing them.

Stiles could feel every vein and ridge in Peter’s cock as it continued to slide into him. He tried to do what Master Rafael had instructed, but his body’s instinct was to clench and try to prevent the invasion. “Please take it out,” Danny pleaded.

“Please…” Stiles echoed as Peter slapped his ass cheek, driving more of himself in.

“Six inches down, three to go, Stiles,” Peter said, rubbing the area where he’d just slapped before placing his hands on Stiles’ waist, for better leverage. “Are you ready for the rest of it? I’ll do it just like a band-aid.” Peter shoved the rest of himself, causing Stiles to cry out. “Your Master is inside you now, Stiles… how does that make you feel?”

“It hurts,” Stiles whimpered.

“You’re not a virgin anymore,” Peter said. “I’ve claimed you as mine… properly. I can feel you squeezing around me, Stiles. You feel amazing.” He began to rock in and out, as did Rafael. Both slaves grunted with each thrust. Their Masters picked up speed. Peter pulled out of Stiles to take off his clothes. He flipped Stiles on his back. “Normally you would not be permitted to look a free man in the eyes while in use. But since this is your first time, I’ll let you stare into mine. I want to see the look on your face when I come inside you.”

Peter pushed all the way back into Stiles, causing him to arc his back and again groan from pain. Stiles couldn’t look at him, though. It angered Peter who placed his hand around Stiles’ neck as he continued to thrust. “Look at me!” he growled. Peter’s strong, muscular body moved between Stiles’ legs with each powerful thrust. “Focus on the feeling of me inside you… and know that I can do this whenever I want… know that for the next five years, _this_ is your purpose…” he grunted as Stiles felt a warm liquid enter his body in spurts. He knew that Peter had come inside him.  “That was the best fuck I’ve had in a while,” Peter gasped as he pulled out of Stiles, leaving him to feel more vulnerable than ever, having just lost his virginity with an audience to someone he didn’t want to have sex with.

“Slaves clean a free man after providing pleasure,” Rafael instructed as he continued pounding into Danny. Stiles pushed himself to his knees and lowered his mouth back to Peter’s dick. He could hear Rafael loudly coming inside Danny before his fellow slave was licking the remnants off Rafael as well. Stiles felt Peter’s semen slowly starting to drain out of him.

“How do you think we did?” Peter asked the other Master.

“I think we’ll get plenty of return on our investment. If we establish a $50 per week fee for access to them, the staff of the Museum will do a good job of paying off what we spent on them… but we can maximize profits by only allowing them to perform for staff members three days a week, give them one day to rest, then two days use to the general public… since we purchased them as virgins, we can easily charge $1000 and still have a line out the door of men waiting to fuck them,” Rafael said.

“And what about the seventh day of the week?” Peter asked.

Rafael shrugged. “It could be another rest day… or they could spend the day riding our cocks until we buy some more and move on to them.”

“We would make $60,000 a month on the employees and another $144,000 per month assuming 18 hour days servicing the public at two clients an hour baseline,” Peter said, tapping on his phone. “They’ll pay for themselves in just under two months. And by the end of their service time, we’ll make almost 12 million in profit from each of them.”

Stiles hated the way they were discussing them like property, though he knew he should get used to it. Stiles was, for the next five years, simply that: property to be used for profit and from the sounds of it, he’d be used for a lot of profit. He felt slightly nauseated at the idea of having sex with that many men in the course of five years… Who would want to be with him when he got out? The moment they found out how many men he’d been with, they’d run. It didn’t matter that there was no more threat of sexually transmitted diseases… he would be simply used up by that point. He could barely fathom an 18 hour day of lying on a bed, different men walking up and fucking him before leaving… not even taking the time to ask his name. He began to cry.

Rafael pulled Stiles up onto the seat between him and Peter and wrapped his arms around the shaking boy, pulling him tight against his bare, muscular chest. “Shhh,” he said. “Don’t cry. You lost your virginity to Peter Hale… I know from experience that he’s a very good fuck… You’re about to experience every young man’s dream… nonstop sex for five whole years.”

“Nobody will love me when I’m free again,” Stiles sobbed.

“What makes you think that?” Rafael asked.

Stiles managed to stop crying long enough to answer his Master. “All the men I’ll have been with… Nobody will want me after that…”

“Quite the contrary,” Rafael said. “You will be so good at sex that you’ll be in high demand… you’ll give the best blowjobs anyone has ever had. You’ll get a lot of practice in it over the next five years. Starting now.” Rafael’s hand moved to the back of Stiles head and he forced it down onto his cock. Peter pulled Danny over to him and forced the slave to sit on his cock. Rafael was longer than Peter, though not quite as large in girth. His cock went straight down Stiles’ throat, causing him to choke and gag. Instinct made him push back, but Rafael held him until he knew he couldn’t anymore. “Lay down on your back, tilt your head up,” he ordered.

Stiles wiped away the spit that drenched his mouth and chin with the back of his hand before obeying. Rafael straddled his head and slapped the head of his dick a few times against Stiles’ mouth before ordering him to open it. “Peter prefers a nice tight ass… and I agree that a tight ass can provide many pleasures. But what drives me wild is getting to fuck a man’s mouth and coming straight down his throat. Few have the ability to master the art of deep-throating, but I’m going to make sure you are an expert, so that you’ll find love when you’re free. The key is breathing through your nose when I’m not clogging your throat with my dick. Keep swallowing. It’ll make me feel great.”

With that, Rafael moved Stiles’ head slightly creating a straight line and drove his cock into Stiles’ mouth. His legs rested on Stiles’ hands, preventing him from fighting back as he thrust in and out of the slave’s throat.  Stiles had no choice but to accept the intrusion into his mouth as his Master’s balls pressed tightly against his nose and his pubes brushed Stiles’ chin. He struggled to breathe in the narrow windows available to him as Rafael brutally fucked his throat. Rafael’s hands reached down and held Stiles’ head perfectly still as he thrust one last time as he emptied his load into the slave’s throat. He pulled out and Stiles turned onto his stomach and began coughing and gasping for air. His face was covered in saliva and snot and he felt dirty and disgusting. Rafael produced a small towel and threw it at the slave. “Wipe yourself up,” he ordered. Leaning over to Peter, he commented, “That was probably one of the best deep throats I’ve ever had from an untrained mouth. Once we polish the technique a little, we’ll be able to market that skill.”

Peter finished loudly inside Danny, leaving Stiles to wonder how it was even possible for them to orgasm so many times. From the same compartment the towel was found, Peter pulled out what Stiles recognized to be two butt plugs. They were slightly wider than Peter’s dick. Peter handed them to Stiles. “Put one in yourself and while Danny is cleaning me off, put the other in him.”

Stiles slowly took the plug and pressed it to his battered hole. He squeezed his eyes tight against the pain as he forced it in, feeling himself once again expand to a limit he had never before been stretched. His body felt like a sack of meat for the use of others, which he figured was likely what they wanted. His heart raced a little when the plug finally was in place and he whimpered slightly.

The steady evidence of tears were streaming down Danny’s cheeks as he rose up off the cock that had been impaling him, turning around to clean off the remnants of his abuse. Stiles caught his eyes for a moment, hoping to convey with a glance his regret for what he was about to do. Danny saw it and gave a subtle nod to show that he understood. He turned around and engulfed Peter’s dick. While he was busy with that, Stiles pushed the plug into his fellow slave, causing him to whimper as well.

It wasn’t long until the limo was pulling to a stop. Peter and Rafael put collars on the two slaves and attached leashes. “I’ll use you a little more tonight and then we’ll start your training tomorrow,” Rafael told Stiles.

“I don’t think I’ll even sleep tonight,” Peter chuckled. “You loosened this one up and put a little lube in him… he rides like a dream.”

Stiles glanced over at Danny who was crying. It angered Stiles, who had never been okay with the Indentured Servant Program. Certainly it _did_ save the government money and recidivism for smaller sentences was nearly zero. But he’d seen former slaves in the supermarket. He remembered how when he’d try to smile at them, they’d avert their eyes and look down. They held so much shame. Formerly proud and outgoing men became withdrawn shadows of themselves, cowering from a high-five for fear of being beaten. He was afraid he’d become like that. He already had permanent markings on his body and he would try damn hard to prevent any permanent markings on his heart.

Rafael and Peter separated once they were inside the mansion. Peter occupied the North wing and Rafael took residence in the South wing. The moment the door was closed behind them, Rafael had taken off his clothes and tied Stiles’ leash to the bedpost and his hands locked into cuffs, also connected to the bedpost. He grunted uncomfortably as the plug was removed, quickly replaced by Rafael’s dick. “You can’t do this to me!” he yelped as Rafael buried himself to the root. “I’m still a human being and I don’t consent! I’m 17! I’m not even old enough to give consent! You’re a rapist and a child molester!”

Rafael stopped thrusting, but remained inside the boy. “You were found guilty of a crime and the court deemed you old enough for Servitude. I purchased you at fair auction and as such you are now my property to do with what and when I please. And as long as I return you to the Department of Enslavement and Servitude in five years with no permanent disfiguring disabilities or tattoos and markings that can’t be covered up by a nice Polo shirt, I can and will do whatever the fuck I want to you. Whenever we have to return a slave because his service contract is up, Peter and I fuck him the entire way back to the Department. And even after the paperwork has been filed and rights have been restored, we’re allowed something called Owner’s Parting Rights in which we have one hour with you after you’ve been declared a Free Man… and we won’t just be reminiscing about the fun we had together.”

“Please,” Stiles begged, changing his tactic. “I’m smart. I can do book keeping. I look scrawny, but I’m actually really strong. I can do hard labor and maintain the grounds. But please… I don’t want to be fucked by anyone else.”

Rafael resumed a brutal pace. “The sooner you realize that your place in life for the next five years is with your legs spread wide and a cock in your ass, the easier things will be for you.”

Stiles stared straight ahead as he felt the second load shot into his backside. “No matter what you do to me,” Stiles vowed. “I won’t break.”

“Instead of giving me sarcasm, why don’t you put your lips to good use and wrap them around my dick where they fucking belong,” Rafael replied coldly after pulling out of his slave. He walked around and began skull-fucking the young slave, who was helpless to fight back as the cock snaked its way back down his throat. He had gone 17 years  as a virgin and in the course of a few hours had already didn’t want to have sex again for the rest of his life.

Rafael fucked his slave once more before falling asleep, buried deep inside him.

The next morning, Rafael summoned another slave to fuck in the shower while Stiles watched. When Rafael was clean, the slave dried him off and escorted Stiles to a room in the basement of the building and fastened him to something that looked like a wide saw horse. “Your trainer is going to be with you in a minute,” he said before walking out.

Stiles waited in his compromising position for a while before he heard footsteps approach him and felt yet another cock slide into him. “Jesus Christ!” he growled. “Don’t you people even bother to get a name first?”

“None of your clients will,” the man replied. “You will likely never even share a word with the person. He will enter you, fuck you until he reaches orgasm. Then he’ll pull out, put his cock in your mouth for you to clean off as the next man starts to fuck you before he leaves. You’ll be expected to remain completely silent the entire time. Not so much as a grunt.”

“You seriously expect me to remain silent while I’m raped again and again every single day for five years?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“You will,” the man replied. “You won’t be the only one, though. Danny will also be in the Staff Brothel and the same thing happening to him, three days a week, for 16 hours each day.”

“Only three days a week?” Stiles asked as the man continue to thrust. A jolt of pain caused him to cry out and tense his body.

 “Yes. You will each work in the staff brothel for three days each, take one day to rest and be treated for any injuries and tightened up. You will then spend one day with one of the Masters, and two days either performing in the museum as part of a show or entertaining VIP guests in our hotel.” Stiles began to cry again as he felt the man cum. “My name is Chris, by the way.”

Chris pulled out and unfastened Stiles who shot him a dirty look as he rubbed his sore wrists.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Chris said. “I don’t get any pleasure out of what I did to you.”

“You could have fooled me,” Stiles growled.

“It’s my job to train you to be able to get through these five years with some semblance of your sanity in-tact because believe me, I’ve been where you are,” Chris replied.

“I don’t believe you,” Stiles challenged. Chris rolled his eyes and reached down. Stiles watched as Chris’ penis detached with a sickening suction sound. He was telling the truth. “You’re a slave too?”

“No,” Chris said. “I was, though. I was one of Master Peter’s firsts. My training comprised of me being brought to a brothel and gang-fucked until I stopped reacting to it. Then for the next 10 years, I would spend my days dressed as a Celtic warrior, fucking a young man with another slave’s giant dick during museum hours, and after hours I would entertain guests in the brothel.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles replied.

“Don’t be,” Chris said dismissively. “I survived… and if you listen to me, you will too.” Chris selected a dick that was larger than Master Peter’s and attached it.

Stiles whimpered as he watched it draw nearer. “Please don’t fuck me with that…”

“I’m sorry Stiles,” he said as he moved between the slave’s legs, placing the bulbous head of the giant dick to the tight, puckered hole. He pushed in. Since this was another man’s dick and not his own, he could only feel the incredible pressure as the slave gripped him like a vice, screaming out as his body stretched and struggled to accommodate it.

“Please…” Stiles begged. “It hurts…. I feel like I’m ripping… take it out!”

Chris nodded and obeyed, swapping that one for one that was smaller and re-entering Stiles with relative ease. “Is that better?”

Stiles nodded. “Thank you,” he said. He could handle this one, but not without some difficulty. “If you’re free, why didn’t you go as far away from this place as you could?” Stiles asked as Chris pounded into him.

“I couldn’t go back,” Chris replied. “Master Rafael had me filmed and released it as a porno to a wide array of distributors. I couldn’t face the world outside anymore with any sense of my dignity. And I spent 10 years doing nothing but having sex. The world out there didn’t make any sense to me anymore.” As he continued fucking the young slave, Chris gave Stiles some tips and tricks to make it more pleasurable for the men who would use him.

As hours passed, Stiles found that he could almost ignore the sensation of different cocks inside him, though when Chris finally pulled out and let him sit up, Stiles was unable to look at him. He felt dirty. He’d now been with three different men, if you didn’t account all of the different slaves’ dicks Chris had used in his training today. “Are we done?”

“For today,” Chris replied. He could see the pain in Stiles’ eyes. He grabbed a jar of cream and told Stiles to bend over, applying it rather generously, providing instant relief. “With the amount of sex you’ll be having, it’ll become a lot less painful. Your body will become used to it.”

“Will I become loose?” Stiles asked.

He shook his head. “It’s a myth designed to restrict the free expression of sexuality. Just take care of yourself. I’ll show you some tricks to stay tight if you’re really worried about it. Now head over to Master Peter’s suite. He’s going to take you for the night.” Stiles figured the dread must have shown on his face because Chris chuckled. “He’s not as bad as Rafael,” he added. “But I’ll escort you.”

Chris helped Stiles to his feet. Walking felt strange. His body kept wanting him to spread his legs a little for comfort, a concept that nauseated him given his current status as a sex slave. Chris reattached his own dick before pulling on some clothes. They walked in silence until they turned down the corridor leading to Master Peter’s suite. “When you enter the room, do so quietly. If he’s there, bow to him and ask how you may serve him. If he’s not, lay yourself over the bed, ass ready to pleasure him.” Before turning to leave, Chris added, “Good luck, Stiles. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stiles slowly opened the large door, peering in. Master Peter was lying naked on his bed, flipping through channels. Stiles quickly slipped in, shutting the door silently behind him. He gave a low, respectful bow before asking, “How may I serve you, Sir?”

“Come lay on the bed face down,” Peter commanded. Stiles obeyed and Peter climbed on top of him, wasting no time in plunging right into his body. Stiles used the various secrets and tips Chris had taught him and Peter moaned in his lust. “Little freak of nature,” he grunted. “You’ve been fucked all day long and you’re still so fucking tight on my cock…” He picked up his pace. Stiles was surprised at how easy it was to take his dick compared to the day before. When Peter finally came, he collapsed on top of the young slave. “God you’ve got one of the best asses I’ve ever felt. And that’s saying something.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Stiles replied. “Do you want me to clean you off?”

“No,” Peter replied. “But I’ve got a proposition for you. But I want you to consider it very carefully because your answer seals your fate. It seems like a waste to let a prodigious hole like yours go to a brothel for five years so I’d like to take you as my personal slave. Of course, sex would be a regular part of your duties, but it’d be sex with me and those I give permission to use you. You’d also do secretarial duties and clean up after me as I tell you to. Or you can spend your five years in the brothel. It’s up to you.”

The only thing Stiles could think of was the sheer disparity in the number of people he’d end up having sex with. He instantly chose the personal slave option. “I’ll serve as your personal slave,” he replied, almost forgetting to add an honorific, so he quickly said, “Master.”

He felt Peter get impossibly rigid inside him as he quickly began fucking the young slave yet again. “I was hoping you’d say yes,” he grunted. “Of course, I still need to reclaim what I spent on you and pay to replace you… so you’ll need to spend one month in our general brothel before you can start serving as my slave. You’ll spend 8 hours on duty, 8 hours off, entertaining two clients per hour minimum.”

Stiles quickly did the math. “But sir… that’s 960 clients in 30 days,” Stiles said softly, hoping the pitifulness of his voice might inspire mercy on behalf of his Master. “I don’t know how I can serve you properly after doing that…”

“Then figure it out,” Peter groaned as he finished again. “Chris will help you in your training. It looks like you’ll be fine, considering after one day… your skills are just incredible.”

“I’m impressed by your stamina, Sir,” Stiles said meekly as he felt Peter pull out. He was beginning to find it hard to believe that particular part of his anatomy ever had any other function before his enslavement.

Peter turned Stiles onto his back, his large hand grasped tightly at the slave’s neck, sending a shiver of panic through him. “Thank you, Stiles,” he said with a creepy calm voice. “But if you ever lie to me again, I will beat you until you don’t know your name anymore, fuck you until you’re wheel-chair bound, and put you in the brothel on a 24 hour shift for the rest of your sentence. Do you understand me?” Stiles gulped and nodded. Peter’s hand slid down from Stiles’ neck to the smooth skin where his dick had been. “The thing is, Stiles… I want you because you’re defiant. You have that streak in you that says that no matter what I do to you over the next five years, somehow you’ll manage to have the last laugh. Am I right?”

Stiles thought for a moment before nodding his head. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright then,” Peter replied, walking his fingers down into his groin and shoving them into his slave. “I’m ordering you to be yourself this entire time… that way I can, too.” Stiles arced his back as he was invaded for what seemed like the billionth time that day, however for a brief moment, almost so quickly that he thought he imagined it, Peter’s eyes were bright red.


	2. Splinters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel morally obligated to put a bit of a PSA out there. While the characters in this story don't use condoms because STIs are not an issue in this AU, that's not the case in real life and you should always use protection.

“Alright,” Chris said as he led Stiles to the Brothel. “Just remember… don’t keep track of the numbers. You’ll end up hating yourself if you do.”

“And that’s different from how I feel about myself now in what way?”

“Once your 30 days is up, you’ll be Master Peter’s personal slave. It’ll be an easy ride until your time is up and you can go back and forget any of this ever happened,” Chris said. “And I’ll be in to check on you every few days. You’ll be fine. There’s a panic button under each bed. If the guy gets too rough or you are afraid for your life, hit the button, a guard will come in and check on you. It’s $1,000 a pop, so the men you’ll have will be pretty easy to handle. And like I said, they’ll walk in, fuck you, have you clean them, and leave.”

“I just have to walk through those doors and have sex with 960 different men before I’m allowed out,” Stiles grumbled. “Yeah. That’s a piece of fucking cake.”

Chris grabbed his arm tightly, staring intensely into Stiles’ eyes. “One month  _is_ a piece of cake. The slave you’re sharing a room with here, Jackson… he originally was a 5 year sentence, but got an extra three years for mouthing off to a customer and then to Master Rafael. He was purchased to be a model in the museum. He got sent straight to the brothel. He gets out the same day you’re scheduled to get out of here. Wanna know what his final count will be?” Stiles gulped. He didn’t want to, actually. Chris told him anyway. “Ninety-three thousand, four hundred and forty men. There are slaves in there that were given lifetime service commitments who will never see the light outside the walls of this building and will spend the rest of their lives on a bed being fucked by men they’ll never even talk to. And you’re complaining about a scant 960? You’d die if you knew my number.”

“I thought you said keeping track of your number lead to self-loathing,” Stiles countered.

“How do you think I know that?” Chris asked. His eyes became misty and unfocused. He blinked them several times and shook his head, returning to the bright and optimistic version Stiles had come to know. “Alright so you’ll only be on for eight hours at a time, followed by an eight hour rest period. During that rest period, you’ll be expected to eat, use the restroom and clean yourself out as well as get some sleep, although you’ll probably sleep during work sessions, too. I know I did. If you can service more clients in the hour, you’ll get out of here faster. And since you’re young and tight… in your first few weeks, you might be able to do at least five an hour.”

Stiles was getting a headache. He put his hands up to silence Chris. “Will you at least come visit me?”

“I’ll be busy training more new slaves,” Chris replied. “But I’ll be able to come retrieve you when you’ve done your time.” Stiles nodded, hugging Chris. “Good luck, kid,” Chris said as Stiles was pulled away by a guard and lead to into the brothel. The guard put a collar around his neck before leading him into a room with two twin-sized beds. One was taken by a sexy young man only a little older than Stiles. He was on his stomach, an older man thrusting madly into him. The slave’s eyes were bright blue, but they looked dead somehow. This must have been Jackson of the Ninety three thousand, four hundred and forty men, Stiles presumed. He, too, was wearing a collar, chained to the head of the bed in the same manner the guard chained Stiles.

“Take a second to lube yourself,” the guard told him. “Your clients will begin in a few minutes.”

Stiles reached onto the bedside table, greasing his fingers with the silky liquid before shoving them into his hole, trying to get as much lube as possible inside him. He wiped his fingers on a dingy towel that had been identified as his to use. It smelled strongly of cum and Stiles was certain it hadn’t been washed since last use, but now was not the time to be squeamish. Butterflies danced in his stomach as a light on the wall at the end of his bed went from yellow to green. Chris had told him about the colored lights. Red meant the slave was with a customer, yellow meant that the slave was unavailable due to being off-duty, and green meant the next customer could enter.

An average-looking man walked in and disrobed. Stiles turned onto his stomach and spread his legs. There was no talking. There wasn’t even an acknowledgment of each other’s existence. The man merely climbed on the bed and entered Stiles, taking no time to work to a punishing, brutal pace. Stiles struggled to keep silent. He was merely thankful that the man was not particularly gifted in terms of size.

The man who had been fucking Jackson came loudly and pulled out, walking over to have Jackson clean him off as another man quickly entered the room and took his place. Jackson didn’t even react. Stiles wished he could be that stoic as he felt his first client finish inside him and pull out, quickly replaced by another, then another, then another. Fat men with tiny dicks, tiny men with giant ones. Men who smelled like they hadn’t showered in several days and men who seemed to have showered in cologne. There was a man who whispered sweet nothings in his ear and another who wept with each thrust. By the end of his first 8 hour shift, he had managed to get through 50 of his 960 men, though at the price of feeling disgusting. His light turned yellow and a guard came in with a plug that he forced into Stiles before unhooking his collar and yanking him to his feet.

The dried semen on his legs tugged uncomfortably at his body hair as he walked behind the guard to a large room with tiny blue tiles and huge drains in the center of the floor. At one end of the room, two guards were busy fucking a slave. “Are you going to use me, sir?” Stiles asked nervously. He didn’t want to have to put forth effort toward men who didn’t count toward his goal.

“Master Peter gave us very specific instructions regarding you,” the guard replied. The answer was frustratingly vague. Tepid water began spraying onto Stiles. “Put your hands on the wall and stick your ass out.” Stiles grunted as the guard removed the plug. He gagged as he felt 50 loads of cum start to drain out of him. The guard then shoved a hose into Stiles, turning the water on. As he looked down, he could see that his stomach was bloating as his bowels filled with water. It felt uncomfortable and Stiles wanted it to stop. After several moments, the guard pulled the hose out and shoved his night stick into Stiles to keep him from leaking the water. As degrading as it was to be plugged up by an object that could just as easily be used to beat him senseless, Stiles was willing to overlook this added violation. It seemed trivial now, to be outraged by this when he’d just been chained to a bed and fucked by 50 men.

The guard led him over to the drain and forced him into a squatting position that made his legs burn and yanked the night stick out. The water rushed out of his body Stiles turned bright red as other slaves and guards watched the process get repeated several more times until the guard stick several fingers into him to verify that he was once again clean. “This is a fucking miracle hole,” the guard commented. “After what it just got through, it’s still tight as a drum… Those are some good genetics you’ve got. It’s like you were born to ride cock.”

Stiles didn’t reply he only turned an even brighter shade of red as the guard then attached a cock to him, allowing him to pee. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the sensation of pissing with another guy’s cock. When Stiles was done, the guard pulled the cock off and gave him a dry bar he’d come to know as Slave Cakes. They were bland, a bizarre mix of crunchy and chewy, and not designed to be remotely appetizing in any way. They were cheap, however, and fulfilled all the nutritional requirements a slave would have. Stiles choked it down and then drank the glass of water he was offered before the guard said, “Your dinner isn’t done just yet…” and pushed him to his knees. He knew exactly what he was expected to do and reluctantly opened his mouth. The guard pulled a fat, veiny dick out of his trousers and pushed it down his throat. Thanks to his training, he was an expert at deepthroating and wrapped his lips around the meaty cock. He worked hard to give a good blowjob, hoping he might be able to earn some favors from him in the future.

When he tasted the guard’s cum on his tongue, milked as much as he could out of him and swallowed, as he had been trained to do. The guard then pulled him to his feet, pushed him forward and thrust into him. He grabbed a toothbrush that Stiles was pretty sure was used on all slaves and began roughly cleaning his teeth with it. Stiles was unsure why he needed to be penetrated for this part, but figured that it had to do with the fact that pleasure slaves were trained to remain perfectly still while a cock was inside them. After several minutes of the particularly invasive oral hygiene regimen, the guard pulled out of Stiles and zipped back up, leading him back to his bed and chaining him. By his reckoning, he still had seven hours of his break left and Jackson was no longer being fucked by clients. When they were finally alone, he introduced himself to the dead-eyed slave. “Hi… I’m Stiles.”

“What the fuck kind of a name is Stiles?” Jackson replied.

“It’s more of a nickname,” Stiles explained. “My real name is Polish and really hard to pronounce. I’m not even sure if I can pronounce it properly.”

Jackson put his hand up. “That question was rhetorical. I don’t actually care. I’ve been fucked by almost a hundred guys in the last 24 hours. I really just want to sleep.”

“Does it get easier?” Stiles asked.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “You lie on your stomach and take dicks in the ass. It’s not rocket science.”

The way Jackson was resting, Stiles could see every muscle, including a V that he was sure once led to a truly magnificent cock, and what Stiles imagined were probably egg-sized low-hanging balls. Unfortunately, his were gone right now, just as Stiles were. “You’re really attractive,” Stiles blurted.

“I know,” Jackson replied. “And despite the number of clients I’ve serviced, I’ve got one of the tightest holes in the place. These men don’t pay a grand to bust a nut in a cavernous troll. They want perfection… innocence. I’m going to give you a piece of advice, and then I’m not going to talk to you again, because quite frankly… you annoy the hell out of me. If you let the guards fuck you, they’ll give you better stuff… real food… hot water in the shower… they once even gave me my own dick to pee from and let me jack off.”

“I think Master Peter might have forbidden them from fucking me,” Stiles replied sadly.

“That sucks for you,” Jackson replied. “And this conversation has been lovely… but I’m going to ignore your existence now.”

Stiles frowned and turned onto his side, closing his eyes in an attempt to get some rest. Unfortunately, even his dreams were haunted by cocks that entered him without his permission. When the light turned green, it woke him up and he began to cry. He quickly reached over and put lube on his swollen, puffy hole and wiped his fingers off, ready for round two.

* * *

 

Two weeks into his time in the brothel and Stiles was more than halfway through his 960. It looked like he would be getting out early. Both his and Jackson’s clients finished at the same time. Two young men entered the room, one climbing onto Jackson’s bed, the other onto Stiles’.

“Can you believe we’re about to lose our virginity?” one of them asked.

“Wanna race?” the other replied.

“Sure!” said the first. The one in Stiles’ bed was hovering at Stiles’ entrance as they counted it down together, then Stiles felt him shove all the way in. Stiles squeezed his hands tightly in an attempt to not cry out. Both guys gasped. “Wow this is so tight…” he said as he took a harsh pace. He was completely unskilled and Stiles felt as though he was simply stabbing into his body in a frantic search for pleasure. He was talkative. “You’re such a tight little slut, aren’t you?” Stiles nodded. “You love the feeling of my dick inside you, don’t you?” Stiles nodded again, even though it was a lie. This had been probably one of the most unpleasant experiences he’d had as a slave to date. Jackson's client won.

* * *

The days blended together, but Stiles kept track of his number, even though Chris told him he shouldn’t. And Chris was right: knowing the number of men who had been inside him made him hate himself. He wondered if that was why Jackson was always so angry. They didn’t speak after that first day; they just stayed on their beds, taking cock after cock.

When Stiles finally reached his last day, his body seemed to vibrate with anticipation. He didn’t care what Master Peter had him do as personal slave… he just didn’t want to be chained to the bed with the steady stream of men clamoring to stuff their cocks inside him.

Halfway through his last 8-hour block, Stiles had reached his goal of 960. He had to finish the shift, unfortunately, so as the client pulled out, he heard another man enter the room. Stiles spread his legs open and the man climbed into the bed. Suddenly Stiles felt as though a baseball bat was being shoved into him. This man’s dick was impossibly, freakishly huge. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as the man continued forcing more of it into him. All the men he’d taken before and even the training with Chris did nothing to prepare him for this. His body felt like it was stretching past its limits. It was agonizing. When he was about six inches in, Stiles felt the man grab his hips and ram the remaining several inches in a painful burst that caused Stiles to yelp.

“You fucking piece of shit!” the man scolded. “GUARDS!”

The guard quickly entered the room. “Yes sir?”

“This fucking slave just made an unsolicited noise. I demand to speak to the owner!” the man yelled.

The guard radioed and soon, Master Peter was in the room, Stiles still impaled on the giant cock. The man complained and lied about what happened and Stiles was unable to plead his case. Master Peter just glared at him. “He will be severely punished, I assure you!” Master Peter promised. “And for the trouble he caused, I’ll also make sure you get three free hours with him and five free passes to the brothel. And to pay for it, Stiles, none of the men you’ve serviced today will count toward your quota.”

“Thank you,” the man replied smugly as Master Peter walked out of the room, ready to begin his three hour marathon with Stiles.  _This isn’t fair!_ thought Stiles as the client began thrusting.  _It’s like he’s putting his fucking arm into me. How am I supposed to not react to that?_

For three hours, Stiles was speared on it. His entire body hurt from the strain of having to take it inside him. When the client finally pulled out, he’d dropped six loads inside him and Stiles’ hole twitched, desperately trying to shut. His light went yellow, but the guard didn’t come immediately. It happened sometimes. If several slaves went off-duty at once, the guards would cycle through them. As long as the slave got fed, cleaned, his teeth were brushed, and he was allowed to use the restroom at some point during the break, it didn’t matter if it happened immediately or not.

Jackson’s light was yellow and he was setting in to catch some sleep before the guards took him as well. Stiles reached around, feeling his sore, battered hole. It still wasn’t closed “Jackson… what if someone stretches you too much?” Stiles asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’m still not closing up… I think he might have broken me,” Stiles replied.

“That’s happened to me a few times. And he was in you for a while,” Jackson said. “The guards will probably give you some  _Slave-Tite_ when they take you.” Stiles was surprised at how pleasant Jackson was being. “If you want, I can see if you’ll need it. The human body can withstand some fucked up shit.”

“Are you offering to stick your fingers in my ass?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah,” Jackson said. “I thought you wouldn’t survive the first day… but you’ve done it. And it wasn’t fair to you. So I’ll do this one favor for you. But don’t you ever ask for anything again.” And just like that, Asshole Jackson had returned. Stiles moved so that he was as far off the bed as his chain would allow, his gaping asshole facing his roommate and fellow slave. Jackson moved as far as he could and Stiles winced as his fingers grazed the sensitive, raw skin. They easily snaked inside. With no resistance, Jackson was able to get his entire hand into Stiles, all the way to the wrist. When he pulled out, it was covered in the semen of the clients Stiles had serviced during this last 8 hour session. Jackson wiped it off with his towel and wiped it off, seemingly unaffected by the pure ick-factor of what happened between them. “You’ll definitely need some  _Slave-Tite_ . But after that, you’ll be even better than before.”

“What is  _Slave-Tite_ ?” Stiles asked.

“It’s a salve designed for pleasure slaves,” Jackson replied. “You slather it onto a large dildo and shove it into the slave and completely coat their insides. A few hours later, you’ve pretty much got your cherry back.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Jackson replied. “They did some tests stuff. It was really scientific and shit. But side-by-side, people couldn’t tell the difference between a 10-year brothel slave and a fresh virgin slave. It even got a Good Housekeeping seal.”

Stiles laughed at that notion. The guard came in and grabbed Jackson. Not too long after, another one came for Stiles. Just as they did every time, they cleaned him out, fed him a Slave Cake, gave him some water, and attached some poor slave’s cock to his front and allowed him to piss. The guard entered him to immobilize him while they brushed his teeth, but Stiles barely felt him. When that was done, exactly as Jackson predicted, they slathered a gooey cream that Stiles would have sworn was semen onto a large dildo that looked to be even bigger than the client who made this necessary. “This is going to hurt,” the guard warned. “You have permission to make noise if necessary.”

They pushed the giant dildo into Stiles. The cream burned. It felt like his ass was on fire. Stiles screamed in agony. He would have gladly spent three days on the giant-cocked client if it meant that he’d never have to feel this pain again. “Please sir,” Stiles begged. “Make it stop!” Tears ran down his face as he whimpered again once the dildo was all the way inside him. It’s like he was being welded back together.

“We can administer a pain killer, but you will have six months added to your slavery sentence,” the guard replied. Stiles forgot about that. Any medical procedures he required or requested would add to his sentence, to offset the cost it would cause his owner. Six months was a little steep, but as the guard twisted the dildo, ensuring his hole was slathered in the burning, lava-hot  _Slave-Tite_ , he didn’t care. Six months was worth it.

“Yes please…” Stiles replied. “I’ll take the pain killers.”

The guard called over to another and soon, Stiles felt a needle prick into his skin and soon, he was unconscious.

When he woke up, a man was thrusting in and out of him. Immediately, his training kicked in and he spread his legs a little and began working his ass muscles to help benefit the client. He had no idea how many men he served while he was out, but he just held tight. The client moaned and grunted as he splashed his semen all over the inside of his newly tightened hole and withdrew, coming around to have Stiles clean him off. His light turned yellow. He’d been out for an entire shift. Jackson went yellow too. “I cleaned your clients for you. The guards posted a note that you’d been given a sedative. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said, feeling groggy. “Do you know how many guys fucked me?”

“Keeping track of your number?”

“Yeah.”

“You hit your quota,” Jackson said. “Congratulations. You’re getting out of here.”

The guard came in, put him through his routine, and then led him to his Master’s suite in the mansion where Master Peter was balls-deep in a young, blond slave. Stiles fell to his knees. “How may I serve you, Master?” he asked, per his training.

“I’ll deal with you in a few minutes,” Master Peter said. He then turned his attention to the guard. “You may leave. He’ll be fine where he is.”

Stiles watched as his master fucked the young slave with brutal intensity, pushing the slave entirely off his dick before slamming all the way in. He suspected that this was a new purchase. He hadn’t been able to actually physically watch a slave being truly fucked by its master. In watching this, he realized that slave bodies—and more specifically, slave orifices—were merely commodities. So long as his ass could tightly hug an invading dick, he had value. And thanks to spending the last month in the brothel, Stiles’ body had a bizarre craving to be filled by cock. It was like his body had been trained to comprehend that as his purpose and he was deeply troubled by that.

Master Peter came loudly and violently inside the young slave who looked terrified, much as Stiles had when he lost his virginity to that same man in the limo just over a month ago. Stiles allowed that to sink in. It was impossible to know his actual number at this point, but in just over a month, he’d been fucked by at least 964 men. And if the guards penetrating him during the breaks counted, then his number was even higher.

He was summoned to Master Peter with a snap and a quick gesture to the giant, throbbing cock between his Master’s legs. Stiles slowly approached, sinking back to his knees and taking it in his mouth. “Yeah that’s right!” Peter moaned. “Suck your Daddy’s cock…” Stiles  _hated_ it when Master Peter referred to himself as his “Daddy”. After several minutes, Peter pulled him up. “Alright… now sit on it.” Stiles stifled a sigh. He wished he could have just one interaction with another male during his enslavement that didn’t involve anal penetration. The other slave watched as Stiles turned his back to Master Peter, reaching around and guided it into his slicked entrance. When he felt Peter’s balls against him, he knew that he was all the way on his dick. “I have a little present for you, Stiles.”

“Thank you, sir,” Stiles replied. He began to raise and lower himself, trying to provide Peter pleasure.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Stiles, but you can stop,” Peter said, putting his hands on Stiles’ shoulders and forcing him back down. “Isaac, reach in that drawer and hand me its contents.” Stiles heard the beautiful young slave rustle to complete his task. He handed the item to Peter who then extended his arms around Stiles, showing him what it was. A black leather collar had “HALE” etched into it. There was also a long gold chain coming off a D-ring, allowing Peter to use it either as a leash or a tether.

Tears slowly dribbled down his cheeks as Peter fastened the collar tightly around his neck. He knew that despite the fact that he hated it, he needed to show gratitude. “Thank you, Sir,” Stiles managed. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isaac, hand me that folder on the desk,” Peter ordered. Stiles watched as Isaac obeyed the second order Peter placed the folder on Stiles’ lap. “There are a few things I need you to sign. Isaac… hand me a pen.” Isaac grabbed the pen and handed it to their Master. “Since you accepted the use of anesthetic for the  _Slave-Tite_ , you have an added six months. I petitioned the court to allow me to tattoo the Hale emblem on your back, for which you will also need medical care. That adds another six months. Then you have an extra eight months that I petitioned and was granted for your bad behavior while in the brothel.” Peter pointed to three pieces of paper for Stiles to sign. “So I will need your signature on all of these.” Stiles began to write his name but Peter stopped him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m signing my name, Sir,” Stiles replied, barely able to contain the sound of him crying. He was now facing twenty more months because of that Franken-dicked asshole.

“Your surname is Hale,” Peter informed him. “And actually… it will remain that way for the rest of your life unless I give authorized consent for it to be changed… even after you’re free.”

Stiles signed the papers with his new name and sat the pen down. He could feel his chest tightening. It felt like his lungs were two stones grinding against one another. “Sir… I think he’s having a panic attack!” Isaac exclaimed. Peter pulled Stiles off his dick and moved him to the window, ordering Isaac to open it. The cool breeze washed over Stiles’ sweaty skin, though did little to drown out the crushing heat that was welling up inside him.

When it all died down, Peter moved Stiles over to the bed. “Was that your first panic attack?”

Stiles shook his head. “No sir,” Stiles replied. “I used to get them all the time after my mom died. That’s the first one I’ve had in a while, though.”

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Peter replied. “Get some rest tonight. You’ll start your duties as my personal slave tomorrow.” He pulled Stiles close to him, placing a kiss on his forehead. It felt foreign to the young slave. He didn’t want or need affection from his master. All he wanted was to be treated with simple human dignity. “You can sleep on the bed tonight.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said. He turned onto his side and curled up. This bed was much more comfortable than the one his head hit the pillow, he could feel the exhaustion taking over him, though not before the steady shaking that told Stiles that Isaac was bearing his burden this evening. As subtly as possible, he moved his hand over to Isaac’s, giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I lied... I couldn't stop writing this. I hope you enjoyed! Leave me feedback!


	3. Sustaining

Stiles woke up to the sound of Peter fucking Isaac again. The sickening squishing slaps told Stiles he didn’t want to move. So he laid there, perfectly still until Peter finished. He felt like a coward for what he’d done, but his notions of decency and humanity were starting to leave him. All he wanted was to survive 

Peter slapped Isaac’s ass with laugh. “Fucking you is almost as good as fucking Stiles,” Peter commented as he got out of bed. “And once I’ve got both of you broken… I might just keep you forever.” That sent shivers down Stiles’ spine.

Peter “woke” Stiles up and ordered him and Isaac to go see Chris. Stiles nodded and lead Isaac to the training area. The room smelled of cum, sweat, and misery. Chris was his usual perky self. “You two are going to have some fun today,” Chris told them. “Your master has ordered that you be allowed to cum.” He nodded to two boxes that contained their cocks.

“I must be dreaming,” Stiles said, tears forming in his eyes. “I get to actually see my dick.”

“You’ve earned it,” Chris replied, taking it out of the case. Stiles watched in awe as Chris affixed it to him. He looked down, for the first time since he was enslaved, and saw his cock and balls dangling where they belonged. “But of course there’s a catch,” Chris added. “He wants you two to fuck… and he wants it filmed. He’s going to release it as a porno.”

“I’m 17 and Isaac’s 16!” Stiles protested. “That’s illegal!”

Chris shook his head. “Not for slaves. By sentencing you to slavery, the courts basically deemed you to be at the age of majority. And any footage and imagery Peter gets of you during your enslavement, he’s allowed to use until the end of time because you were his property at the time the footage was taken.”

“This isn’t fair!” Stiles said. “Isaac only has three years. What’s he going to do when he gets out?”

“The same thing the rest of us do when we get out!” Chris scolded. “Try to forget any of this ever happened!”

“I’ll bottom,” Isaac said, finally joining the conversation. Stiles turned his head so fast, his neck cracked painfully.

“No… Isaac… let me. You’ve only had our Masters and Chris. I’ve had a ton of guys. What’s another one?” Stiles reasoned.

“Exactly… odds are, you’ve had at least one guy who might have felt kind of good. You’ll have more skill than me,” Isaac replied. “Please, Stiles… top.”

Stiles offered a weak smile to his fellow slave. “I’ll make sure it’s good, buddy.”

Before they headed to the soundstage, Chris cleaned and lubed Isaac. Stiles knew of slave porn. It was often brutal and dehumanizing, like much of the life a pleasure slave lived. Stiles was determined to give the entire genre a huge, defiant ‘Fuck You.’

Chris ordered Stiles to take his dick off, prompting confusion. “You have to be having sex for at least a half an hour. You’ll fuck him using a nearly identical cock for the majority, then we’ll give you yours to finish with. You just have to make sure you finish inside Isaac,” Chris explained. He found one that looked almost the same as Stiles’ and ordered the slave to attach it. Bright lights then burst on, nearly blinding Stiles as he got the signal that the cameras were rolling. Slave porn normally started with the top slave roughly entering the bottom slave. Stiles instead gently moved between Isaac’s legs and leaned down to kiss him. He let his tongue and lips run across the younger slave’s body before he lined the head of the dick he was using up with Isaac’s prepped hole.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” he said, making sure it was loud enough for the microphones to pick up. He slowly pushed in. It was a bizarre sensation. Stiles could feel how tight and soft he was, but couldn’t feel the actual sensations of sex. Every time he hit Isaac’s prostate, the young slave tensed and moaned. Stiles continued kissing him, trying to convince the cameras that this act of defiance was really an act of love.

He managed to make it last long enough until Chris’ voice shouted “Cut!” and brought Stiles his own cock, swapping them out. Once he’d pushed back into Isaac, Chris directed the cameras to start rolling again. This time, he felt every sensation. It was the most exquisite blissful experience he’d ever had. Isaac felt like a fitted, velvet tube designed especially for his cock. He understood why men would pay so much to fuck the slaves here. When he came, it was powerful, violent, and loud. Isaac came, too and then the lights faded and Chris once again called “Cut!”

Stiles and Isaac were forced to hand over their dicks before Chris led them back to Master Peter. They bowed respectfully to their owners and stood there, waiting for orders. Peter didn’t acknowledge them. Instead, he spoke to Chris. “How did it go?”

“They performed well. I’ll have a good cut of the footage ready for you tomorrow,” Chris said. “Stiles topped and the performance was fantastic. It took all my self-control not to jump in there and pound them both.”

“Why didn’t you?” Peter asked.

“They belong to you,” Chris replied. Peter glided toward Chris. The pair looked so contrasting to Stiles. Peter was a few inches taller than Chris and was wearing a fine Armani suit. Since Chris’ main job was to fuck the slaves as part of their training, he rarely wore clothes and often walked around the compound wearing nothing but a speedo. The way Peter spoke made it obvious to Stiles that he still considered Chris to be part of his property. The way Chris responded made it equally obvious that Chris considered himself to be Peter’s property.

“I’m hosting a gala next month,” Peter told Chris. “It’ll be huge for publicity. I’ll be debuting Isaac’s exhibit in the museum and there will be live entertainment. I’ll be buying a slave especially for this event. I want you to take its virginity as part of the entertainment.”

“Sir,” Chris stammered. “That’s part of your privilege as an owner…”

“Well, I’ll be buying this slave for you,” Peter said. “As a thank you for all the years of hard work you’ve done for me.”

Chris knew he should be gracious, but he didn’t want to own a slave. He knew that he was barely even free. Nobody who had ever been enslaved could truly be free after. “I’m honored, sir.”

“And depending on how well you perform when you take your slave for the first time,” Peter said, circling around Chris. His fingers dipped into Chris’ speedo. The way Chris tensed, Stiles was certain they also pushed into his hole. “I’ll turn you.” There it was again. That red flash that Stiles thought he imagined. Only this time, it lingered. Isaac trembled beside him. Chris withdrew his finger and placed it in Chris’ mouth to clean off. His eyes still bright red, he slowly approached his two young slaves. “Isaac… sweet, innocent, tight, sexy, submissive, fuckable Isaac. Do you know what I have planned for you?”

Isaac gulped and shook his head. “No sir.”

“You’re going to be placed in a new exhibit. You’ll take only the largest dicks we have in our inventory in both your holes for 18 hours a day every single day. There will be cameras sending every angle of it to a live feed that users will be able to access for a small fee. By the time you’re done with your three years, you’ll need three rounds of  _Slave-Tite_ . Stiles can tell you that it’s agony. However… what if I could spare you the need of having  _Slave-Tite_ ? What if I could promise you that you’ll be stronger than other men… stay beautiful and young for much longer. And you’ll be able to orgasm with or without your dick. All you’ll need is a simple touch from me. How does that sound?”

Isaac’s eyes got large. “Yes!” he exclaimed. “Yes sir!”

“And what about you, Stiles?” Peter asked. “Your main duties will be pleasuring me and Rafael, but we are still going to have you entertain parties of up to three hundred men multiple times a week. You’ll need  _Slave-Tite_ after each one. Will you want to add an extra six months every single week? Or will you take my offer like Isaac?”

Stiles thought about his decision. He could barely withstand the  _Slave-Tite_ for a few minutes and he didn’t know how long the burning sensation lasted. The thought of six months added to his sentence every week made him physically ill. He’d never be able to get out. He’d be a slave for the rest of his life. “Yes sir,” he whispered. “I’ll take it.”

Peter grinned, turning to Chris. “Go get Rafael. Tell him to come quickly.”

They waited in silence as Chris ran his errand. Peter ruffled through papers on his desk, completely ignoring the slaves in the room. Stiles wondered what, specifically, he agreed to.

As Master Rafael entered the room, he looked as though he had put on some weight since Stiles last saw him. Still, he bowed respectfully to his owner, as did Isaac. Peter ordered Chris to strip naked and remove his cock. He also asked Rafael to do the same. Stiles had no idea he was owned by someone who had previously been enslaved.

“They’ve agreed to join the Pack,” Peter said.

"Then bite them,” Rafael said as though he were annoyed by the slaves’ presence.

Peter grabbed Stiles’ right arm and Isaac’s left arm, sinking razor-sharp fangs into their skin. Both slaves screamed in pain. Instinctively, Stiles put his hand over the wound, sinking to his knees as he felt his body going through a violent, rapid change. The wounds sealed and Stiles could feel his senses improving. Peter’s eyes turned red and immediately, Stiles felt his Alpha’s power influencing him. He moved into a submissive position. “I wasn’t completely honest with you,” Peter said.

_Color me surprised,_ Stiles thought.

“I turned you because I need to breed you,” Peter said. “Born werewolves aren’t happening anymore like they should. Except the Hale line is still able to make them, but only with men who have gone through the separation process. I’ve done some blood tests on you both. Isaac, you and I may be able to reproduce, and Stiles, you’ll be able to have my nephew’s litter.”

“We’ve built breeding cells where you’ll be kept,” Rafael said. “I’m going to give birth in the mansion, of course… but your viable werewolf children will be raised by me and Peter. Stiles, you’ll be kept with Derek in your cage and will be expected to breed at the highest possible rate. It will take at least three lunar cycles of attempted breeding before you can produce offspring. But you’re going to crave sex constantly.”

Peter moved close to Isaac, caressing the side of his face. “I’ll visit you often to help you get through your initial heats.” Peter then turned to Chris. “So the slave I promised you is actually Derek. Since he’s my nephew, I’m not allowed to own him. You, however, can. I’ll give you the money and you’ll pay Deucalion. He’ll be kept in Stiles’ cell while you’re not performing with him. Bring Stiles and Isaac to the mating pens and then head over to Deucalion’s ranch. I want Derek in Stiles’ cage tonight.”

Chris nodded. Rafael handed him a leash, which he attached to Stiles’ collar, then put another collar that read “HALE” around Isaac’s neck. “Sir,” Stiles asked. “Why did you change our names to Hale?”

“It’s my right as your owner to give you my last name,” Peter said. “But it’s tradition in our species that names are matrilineal. Your children will have Hale blood coursing through their veins and as such, they’ll have the name Hale. You’ll be giving birth to royalty for our kind.”

Chris attached Isaac’s leash and led both slaves out to an area of the compound neither of them had seen. For pens, they were rather luxurious. The building was small, barely even on the property of the McCall-Hale Museum and was in the opposite side of the mansion from the brothel. As they walked through the grounds, Stiles realized how much the scent of sex truly filled the air of this place. The pungent odor of semen seemed to assault his new senses from every direction. It wasn’t until he was in his mating cell that he was able to clear the smell from his nose.

Chris told them that their accommodations would be identical before he locked the door behind Stiles, sealing him into the large, 10 by 10 room. The floor was cement, but there was comfortable furniture and Stiles laid down on the bed. As soon as Isaac’s door closed, Stiles could hear him crying. He wanted to cry, too. He just couldn’t bring himself to allow it. “You’ll be alright,” Stiles assured him. “You’re going to have kids with the Alpha. I don’t even know who this Derek person I have to mate with is.”

“How are you okay with this?” he heard Isaac’s whimpered reply.

“I’m not,” Stiles replied. “But there’s no use in fighting it. We’re slaves. We don’t get to choose our destinies anymore. Even when we think we have a choice, we don’t. It’s best to just make them think they’ve won and that we’re compliant. They can’t control what we think. And I think they’re monsters. I think they turned us into monsters so we can make more monsters.”

“But we’re both guys… or at least we used to be before they cut off our dicks and balls,” Isaac said. “How are we supposed to be able to have kids?”

Stiles shook his head, but then realized that Isaac couldn’t see it. “I don’t know, Isaac. But we’ll get through this.”

Silence passed for several minutes before Isaac asked, “How do you stay so strong?”

He thought about his response for a while before he gave it. “I don’t. Now get some rest. Our owner will be coming soon.”

Stiles closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know how long it was until he felt his Alpha draw close and smelled him just on the other side of the wall that separated his cell from Isaac’s. He heard every grunt. He smelled every smell. He wanted to make it stop, but couldn’t. When Peter was done with Isaac, he’d taken the slave four times. Then, his door opened. Stiles bowed respectfully to his master and Alpha. The pheromones coming off his Alpha’s crotch made Stiles light-headed. He shifted under their influence. He could feel Peter’s will reaching into his mind, removing from it the desire to resist. On all fours, Stiles crawled over to him, instincts taking over as he buried his face between his Alpha’s legs. His tongue lapped across the semi-erect cock and large balls hanging between Peter’s legs. He did his best to get his tongue to trace along Peter’s taint, trying to gorge himself on the scents and tastes of his Alpha. He was drunk on the pheromones when Peter finally growled, forcing him into a submissive position, his ass up in the air, ready to be taken. Stiles could smell that Peter wasn’t angry. Quite the opposite. He smelled ecstatic.

“Oh not yet, my pet,” Peter chuckled. “There are a few things I need to do to activate your heat since I’m not able to mate with you. But don’t worry. You’re going to love it.” He let out a roar that forced Stiles back to his human form. “First, you need to eat from me.” Stiles cocked his head, confused before Peter shook his dick in Stiles’ direction, hitting him with another blast of pheromones. Stiles nodded, opening his mouth, bringing him back to full mast. Peter held the sides of Stiles’ face as he pumped in and out of his throat. It wasn’t long until Peter pulled out just far enough that the head was resting on Stiles’ tongue before coating it with his cum. If Stiles had been intoxicated on pheromones, he didn’t even have a word to describe the effect tasting his Alpha’s cum had on him.

“Please fuck me, sir,” he begged.

“Patience,” Peter whispered as he pulled Stiles to his feet. Peter’s clawed fingers trailed down to the skin where Stiles’ cock and balls used to be. Feeling Peter touch that area sent lightning bolts of pleasure through Stiles. Then Peter dug his claws into the blank skin. Stiles roared in agony, shifting unintentionally. When Peter retracted his claws, Stiles felt his ass spasm. A slippery liquid began leaking from it. “Now I can fuck you…” He turned Stiles around and entered him with incredible ease. Stiles rocked back, wanting to feel Peter as far inside him as possible.

Peter fucked him three times.

By the end of it, Stiles couldn’t even support himself. Peter tossed him carelessly on the bed as he pulled on clothes. Stiles was filled with Peter’s cum and delirious from the powerful effect it had on him. “Sir… am I going to have your kids?”

“No,” Peter said. “But what I just did will make sure you’ll be able to have my nephew’s. And at the rate you and Isaac will be cranking out children, the Hale pack will once again be the strongest, largest, most powerful pack on Earth. Alphas around the world will be clamoring to mate with you, but I’m going to make sure that your womb is filled with a Hale child at all times for the rest of your life, unless the other Alphas are willing to part with a very large sum of money.” Peter walked out, sealing Stiles in the room again. It took a long time for Stiles to come down from the high his Alpha gave him and for the words to sink in. Stiles was never going to see freedom again. His body wasn’t just a commodity for pleasure anymore. It was a regular baby factory.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard someone coming. A quick sniff told him it was Chris, Peter, and someone whose scent he didn’t recognize. He focused on listening. “Rafael and I have chosen a name for our child. We’re going to name him Scott.”

“Sir, how do you know it’s going to be a boy?” Chris asked.

“The Alpha always knows,” Peter replied. “As for you, Derek… your bitch is in here. I’ve fucked him well. He should be pretty heavily sedated. I want you to put two loads inside him by midnight. And there should be a total of six in him by the time I return tomorrow. After that, you need to stud him at least four times a day to ensure the proper changes take hold and he gets pregnant. But more will get the process going quickly. I’ll be putting two loads in him per day to make sure he’s susceptible only to Hale seed.”

“Yes sir,” the voice replied.

Stiles tried to sit up. His head was swimming. He felt dizzy. The door opened and Peter stepped in. He was wearing clothes this time, but another wave of pheromones hit Stiles, causing him to fall uselessly back onto the bed. Chris removed his leash from Derek’s collar. Peter shoved Derek hard. He fell as the door was shut and locked, sealing them in the room together. One sniff was all it took to tell Stiles that Chris had used Owner Rights on Derek. Stiles could smell Chris’ semen inside him. “I’d help you up, but Master Peter did something… I can barely even move.”

Derek managed to pull himself back to his feet. He was entirely nude, his dick and balls hanging beautifully between his legs. He was beautiful and Stiles felt his backside leaking that fluid once again. “It’s an Alpha thing. He can control you. He’s using his power to drug you. That’s why he fucked you as much as he did. I can smell him in you.”

“And I smell Chris in you.”

“I’ve been a pleasure slave for ten years,” Derek said. “It’s fine. I’m just surprised I’ve been selected for stud. Being a born werewolf makes my ass much more marketable.”

“Perpetual virginity,” Stiles mumbled. “What’s your number?”

Derek shrugged. “I lost count somewhere around five hundred thousand. Yours?”

“I have no idea. I was knocked out for a few shifts in the brothel. But I’ve only been a slave for a little while. But I’ve only got six years and eight months,” Stiles replied.

Derek knew that wasn’t exactly true. Derek knew that they’d spend the rest of their lives in this room, having sex and producing children. But he had only just met the kid and he felt bad that Stiles was drugged out of his mind on Peter’s semen. “Do you want to just get it started?”

Stiles sighed. “That’s the first time anyone has ever asked me if I wanted to have sex before they did it. Why is Master Peter trying to drug me?”

Derek shrugged again. “I think it’s because you’re strong-willed. A strong-willed beta poses a problem for Alphas.”

“Why?”

“Because if your will is strong enough, you could challenge him for position and if you win, you become the Alpha and he dies,” Derek explained. “You can see why he would be anxious to keep you drugged out of your head.”

Stiles decided right then and there that once he was free, he would challenge Peter. Stiles nodded. “Thank you for asking, by the way.”

“What?” Derek asked.

“If we could have sex. I know we were ordered to do it, but you asked first,” Stiles said. “It almost feels like I have a choice in it.”

Derek moved over to the bed. “We’re going to have kids together,” he said. “I don’t want my children to be the product of rape. You and I have been raped every single day since we were first enslaved.”

“Keep talking like that and I could fall in love with you,” Stiles blurted before he realized what he said.

“Never fall in love with a fellow slave,” Derek warned. “Especially not a lifer like me. You only get your heart ripped out… assuming you reach your freedom with any semblance of your heart left in-tact.”

“You’re a lifer?” Stiles asked. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do a thing,” Derek replied. “Peter assumed the position of Alpha in my family and sold me into slavery to a friend of his to prevent me from challenging him.”

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles replied.

“Don’t be,” Derek said. “I have to believe that he’ll get what’s coming to him. What did you do?”

“I saw a man beating his slave,” Stiles said. “The slave hadn’t done anything and the man was beating him almost unconscious. So I decked him. I got sentenced to five years for assault. The funny thing is, if I would have hit the slave, I’d still be free. There’s literally no difference, though. A person is a person.” Derek smiled at Stiles. He respected a Free man who would stand up for a slave, even when it cost him his freedom. “Because I was a virgin, they marketed me as a sex slave. I lost my virginity to Master Peter in his limo.” Stiles began to cry as he thought about it.

Derek rubbed Stiles’ back in an attempt to soothe him. “I don’t think you lost your virginity,” Derek said.

“He forced me to suck his dick and then fucked me,” Stiles said. “You’re right. I didn’t lose my virginity. It was stolen from me.”

“I don’t agree,” Derek said. “I think that when you finally make the decision to have sex with someone, that’s when you lose your virginity.”

Stiles thought for a moment. “Then will you take my virginity?”

Derek smiled. “Sure.” Stiles turned over onto his stomach and spread his legs. “What are you doing?” Derek asked.

“I’m getting into position for sex,” Stiles replied.

Derek shook his head and flipped Stiles onto his back. “No. Real sex… proper sex between two people who want to have sex… it’s more than just the act of penetration. There’s the whole build-up. It’s caring and respectful.”

“I can’t orgasm without my dick,” Stiles replied. “So you can have all the fun you want. I’ll be okay.”

“Peter has done tests. He knows we’re compatible for children. That means that we could become a Mated pair on the full moon,” Derek said. “If it turns out that we’re compatible as Mates, I’ll be able to make you orgasm even without your penis. And we can share mine and you’ll be able to cum.”

“What are Mates?” Stiles asked.

“It’s a bond that two werewolves can enter. It’s like marriage, but more complete. And it’s permanent. But if two werewolves have sex, they can try to make a claim. If it works, they’re Mated. Nobody else can mate with them on pain of death,” Derek explained.

“What happens if it doesn’t work?”

“Sometimes it doesn’t work on the first try,” Derek said. “Sometimes it requires both werewolves to be in love. Rarely can two strangers claim each other.”

Stiles took the information in stride. “And can I really have kids?”

Derek nodded. “In our species, sex is mutable. If the need arises, two males or two females can reproduce. It’s strange, though. Heterosexual werewolf pairs nearly always make a born werewolf. But if two werewolves of the same sex reproduce, there’s only a 25% chance their child will be born a werewolf.”

“Can’t they just turn the child?”

“Nope,” Derek said. “Only the bite of an Alpha can change a person. And the non-wolf child of a same-sex pair will die if bitten.”

“You know a lot about werewolves,” Stiles pointed out.

“I was born one,” Derek replied. “It’d be strange if I didn’t.”

Stiles spread his legs. Peter’s effect was wearing off and he realized they needed to obey the order and fuck, since they had no clock and couldn’t tell when midnight was going to be. Derek crawled between his legs. “Go easy,” Stiles begged.

“Of course,” Derek replied. It was the first time Stiles ever enjoyed being fucked. Derek was gentle and sweet. He laid little kisses on Stiles’ lips and torso. When he felt Derek cum, he was sad that it was over because he felt like he was close to orgasm.

“Can we do that again?” Stiles asked. “I think I got close that time.”

“Sure,” Derek replied. “I just need a few minutes.”

They had sex five times that night. And while Stiles didn’t orgasm, each time he felt like he got closer. Derek fell asleep inside Stiles. It wasn’t the first time he’d slept with a man inside him, but it _was_ the first time he enjoyed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	4. Fraying

When Stiles woke up, Derek was across the room. “Good morning,” he said. “Guards dropped a Slave Cake and some water for you. It’s over here.”

“We need to have sex one more time before Master Peter comes back,” Stiles pointed out. He was finally clear-headed.

“Eager, aren’t you?” Derek replied. “Eat first, then we’ll do it.”

Stiles ate his Slave Cake and drank the water. He then stared at Derek with sad eyes until he finally smiled and climbed back into the bed, kissing and playfully biting Stiles’ body, eliciting tiny giggles and moans. Derek’s tongue flicked across the empty skin between Stiles’ legs. The fact that Derek’s tongue couldn’t run across his dick and balls made Stiles sad. While he was surprised to find that it almost felt good, he wanted to serve his purpose. He wanted to be fucked. In his sobriety, Stiles realized that he didn’t actually feel comfortable being paid this much attention. He no longer felt good without someone taking their pleasure from his body. It had taken a few months, but Stiles had finally been conditioned out of his humanity. “Can you please be selfish?” Stiles asked. “Just fuck me.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied. “I’m fine. I just… I’m only good for one thing. I just want to do something I’m good at.”

Derek narrowed his eyes, cocking his head to one side before realizing what Stiles meant. “You’re worth more than that. You have to believe that.”

“Derek please,” Stiles begged. “Just fuck me. We can have this sentiment fest later.”

“No,” Derek said, moving away. “Not until you tell me you believe you’re worth more than just being fucked.”

“We’re fucking pleasure slaves!” Stiles yelled. “Our entire worth to our owners is how much we get fucked! The more men we can get fucked by, the better! You’re a fucking lifer.”

“And so are you!” Derek replied. “Because the moment you start giving birth to viable werewolf babies, Peter is going to go down to the Department and make some shit up. He’ll be granted a permanent extension of your contract and for the rest of your life you’ll be in this room. I’ll probably be brought in to stud you one week per month and then spend the rest of my month in the brothel. Because of my werewolf status, I’ll be on a 24 hour cycle with just two 30-minute breaks to clean the cum out of my ass. And you’ll probably be there too when you are pregnant but not showing.” Stiles began to cry. “So we can try to make our time together at least somewhat special, or I can be just another dick that’s here for one purpose. Please, Stiles… I realize that you were drunk off of Peter’s influence last night, but I wasn’t and I meant what I said. I want our kids to be the product of love.”

Stiles wiped the tears away from his eyes and looked at the beautiful man in his bed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Derek moved closer, wrapping his arm around Stiles and holding him closely. “It’s alright. What we’re going through… it’s enough to send even the most put-together person entirely off their rocker. I’ll do my best to protect you, Stiles.”

“You only just met me,” Stiles replied.

“Some connections are instantaneous,” Derek replied.

Stiles leaned forward and kissed him, leaning back as he pulled Derek on top of him. As Derek entered him, Stiles’ training kicked in and he stayed perfectly still and silent. Derek kept kissing him as he thrust rapidly into Stiles’ body. It took only a few minutes before Derek groaned loudly, and added another load to Stiles’ body.

They had only a little while to lay together in their after-sex glow before Peter and Chris’ conversation caught their ears. “Should I fuck Stiles first or Isaac?” Peter asked.

“Stiles,” Chris replied. “You’ll clear out the pipes and be able to last longer in Isaac.”

“And I’ll get to see the sight of you fucking my nephew,” Peter added.

They quickly stood up as the door opened. At the sight of their Masters, both slaves bowed. Chris and Peter quickly entered the small cell and shut the door behind them. Peter pulled off his clothes while Chris needed only to peel off his underwear. Peter snapped his fingers and pointed at his dick. Stiles dropped to his knees in front of Peter, hit by another wave of his Alpha pheromones. Derek began dutifully servicing Chris.

Stiles felt intoxicated again. He wanted nothing more than to get Peter as deep inside his body as was physically possible. He wanted to make his Alpha feel good. After several minutes of slicking Peter’s cock with his spit, Stiles was ordered to lie down on the bed and Derek was ordered to get on all fours. Peter started out with a brutal pace and only got worse. Derek squeezed his eyes shut tightly as Chris fucked into him. If Stiles hadn’t been rendered useless by Peter’s pheromones, he would have cried at the sight of Derek being used by that.

He knew that Derek had mentioned servicing over 500,000 men in his time as a slave, but he was so strong and charismatic, and even so happy that Stiles had never actually imagined him having been fucked by other men. Stiles heard as Chris came and watched the look of disgust and self-hatred spread across Derek’s face as Chris slapped his ass crudely and pulled out, ordering Derek to clean him.

“A little quick on the draw this morning?” Peter chuckled as he continued pile-driving his cock into Stiles.

Chris grabbed Derek’s cock and yanked, pulling it off with the distinct, disgusting sucking noise. “He loved every moment of it… which is why he helped his Master come more quickly,” Chris said.

“You should use his dick to plug him up,” Peter said. “I’ve always loved how slaves come with their own plugs.” Stiles recognized some ambivalence on Chris’ part to do it, but in the end, he obeyed as Peter came loudly, filling Stiles with more of the cum that rendered him instantly drunk. “I’ve decided I want you to stud him at least once an hour,” he said to Derek, pulling out of Stiles’ ass and fucking his face in an attempt to clean off the remnants of semen that were left on it.

“Sir,” Derek said. “Perhaps it would make Stiles’ reproductive switch go faster if he and I could do some bonding. You know it helps our kind establish Mate connections much more easily.”

“You’re stuck in this room with nothing to do but fuck,” Peter replied. “If that’s not bonding, I don’t know what is?”

“Please sir,” Derek repeated. “Physical exercise and fresh air will do wonders for him.”

“It sounds like you two have bonded already,” Peter said, eyeing his nephew suspiciously. “And I’m having a camera installed in this room so that I can make sure you’re studding him as often as I need. And if it’s a good performance, I’ll sell the footage.”

Derek nodded and bowed to Peter and Chris who pulled on their clothes. Peter went next door and immediately began fucking Isaac. Chris lingered for a moment and said in a tone that seemed rather more forced than forceful, “I’ll be back in about an hour and a half to fuck you again, slave.”

When Chris was gone, Derek curled up on the floor. Stiles hadn’t seen him like this before. “What’s wrong?”

“I hate the feeling of a man’s cum inside me,” Derek said. “And I heal so fast that it just stays there.”

Stiles tried sitting up, but he felt dizzy. “At least it doesn’t make you feel like this,” Stiles replied. “I could try to get it out of you, if you’d like.”

Derek shook his head. “It’s dehumanizing and disgusting.”

“Derek, it’s cum,” Stiles said. “When I was in the brothel, I cleaned off more than 960 men who had just finished fucking me, their dicks coated in the cum left by the men who used me before them. There’s no difference. And besides… I’ve swallowed Chris’ cum before.”

“Fine,” Derek said. “Then I’ll do the same for you.”

This time, Stiles protested. “That’s different… that’s your uncle’s semen inside me.”

“And mine.”

“Which is there because I’m supposed to get pregnant by you… ergo, it needs to stay inside me,” Stiles said.

“Good point,” Derek chuckled, but the smile on his face quickly faded. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, making himself small. Stiles struggled, but managed to crawl over to him. Derek shied away. “I’m sorry… but I really hate being touched after a man… you know…”

Stiles definitely understood that. “Then let’s just talk.”

“About?”

“Our kids,” Stiles said. “Will they be slaves, too?”

Derek shook his head. “Children don’t inherit their parents’ slavery. If one parent is enslaved and the other is free, by default they become the free parent’s and the enslaved parent is excluded from any parental rights.”

“But we’re both enslaved,” Stiles pointed out.

“Which means our kids will be legally listed as orphans and our owners have the opportunity to adopt them or send them to an orphanage where they’ll be wards of the state,” Derek said.

“But we’re alive… how could they be orphans?”

“Because as slaves, we’re not considered people… so how could we be parents?” Derek said.

Stiles grew frustrated. He no longer wanted to talk about that. It just pissed him off. Soon, it was time for Derek to stud him, so he climbed back on the bed and allowed Derek to fuck him, though he could tell that Derek’s heart wasn’t in it.

After a while, Chris came in. Derek moved back against the wall, bowing to his owner. “When it’s just me, you don’t have to bow,” Chris said. “I came back to apologize. Your uncle expects me to treat you a certain way so I have to act like that in front of him.”

“You own me,” Derek said. “You’re allowed to act however you want. I’m a slave. You’re free.”

“And we’re both people,” Chris said. “I actually wanted to warn you both. I’ve seen what he’s planning to do during the party. Derek’s ‘deflowering’ isn’t the only entertainment on the roster.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked.

“He’s planning an orgy after,” Chris explained. “Isaac, Danny, Jackson and the both of you are going to be chained and provided for use at the party. You’re going to be advertised as the tightest asses the McCall-Hale Museum has to offer.”

“That wouldn’t be a first for any of us,” Derek said. “But thank you for the warning all the same.”

“You don’t get it,” Chris said. “There’s a minimum dick size to get into this party. You two and Isaac will be fine. Danny and Jackson, however, won’t. Jackson is just about to get out. He got his sentence extended for talking to you while you were in the brothel. He’s going to need _Slave-Tite_ after this. So will Danny.”

“Jackson’s tough. Maybe he won’t need anesthetic,” Stiles said.

“Everyone takes the anesthetic. It’s chemically designed to cause excruciating pain. It’s the easiest way corrupt owners have of keeping their slaves longer,” Chris said.

“And it doesn’t get more corrupt than Peter,” Derek said.

“But I’m not sure what you expect us to do,” Stiles said. “I can’t even be within 10 feet of Peter without wanting his dick up my ass because of the pheromones.”

Chris cocked his head to the side. “He’s using pheromones on you?”

“Yeah,” Derek said. “He can’t even move for hours after Peter fucks him.”

“He’s afraid,” Chris said softly.

“Of what?” both slaves asked in unison.

Pointing at Stiles, Chris said, “You. He needs you incapacitated until you’re pregnant and your instincts go from finding your place in your pack to protecting your child. You’ll be less likely to challenge him at that point.”

“He said it was to jumpstart my heat,” Stiles said, now thoroughly confused.

“Once was all you needed for that,” Chris said.

Derek jumped to his feet. “How do you know so much about werewolves?” he demanded.

“Before I was enslaved, I was a Hunter,” Chris replied. Derek growled menacingly in response. “I haven’t been a Hunter for a long time. The Hunters became something I didn’t agree with.”

“So when is the party?” Stiles asked, eager to draw Derek’s mind from something that seemed painful to him.

“In a few days,” Chris said. “I wish there was something I could do to help you…” 

“You warned us,” Stiles said. “Just make sure Jackson and Danny get warned, too.”

* * *

 

The ‘few days’ passed quickly. Derek and Stiles had sex once per hour, as decreed by Peter. Chris and Peter visited them, making use of their bodies until the day of the party. Peter appeared only to warn that he didn’t want them to perform their hourly duty. He let them out of the breeding cages and into a room where the five of them were cleaned and lubed for the party. Chris came in to explain to them how it was going to work.

“Derek has been advertised as a virgin. After we watch the installation of the new exhibit, where an actual virgin will be fucked by a slave wearing the largest dick we have in inventory, I’ll ‘deflower’ Derek in front of the audience. The rest of you have been advertised as the tightest holes we have in stock. When I’m done with Derek, you’ll all be chained up in the center of the room, where the partygoers will be able to use you. Because these will be the largest dicks you’ve likely ever taken, we’ve got several other slaves that will take care of cleaning off the men,” he said. “When it’s over, we’ll administer _Slave-Tite_ to those of you who need it.

Stiles took the chance to look at his fellow slaves. All of them looked sad and confused and even angry. He hadn’t seen Danny since their first night as Peter and Rafael’s property. He looked just as fearful as he had when they lost their virginity side-by-side. He imagined what it must have been like, being locked up in the staff brothel all this time.

Peter made sure that Stiles could watch Derek’s performance. All of them were given blanket permission to cry out. Peter wanted to assuage the egos of the men they were servicing. Though Derek had taken Chris several times in complete silence, he put on a show, making it seem like he was losing his virginity in a horrifyingly brutal manner. And the more Stiles thought about it, the more he realized that Derek was probably just recreating the moment he _actually_ lost his virginity. The men in the crowd watching were making crude, raucous noises, unaware that they were all being duped. Stiles figured they’d likely not care, even if they _did_ know because they were too enthralled by the barbarism they were witnessing to care anything about tiny little details like that.

As Chris came loudly inside Derek, also putting on more of a show than he really needed to, Peter leaned down and whispered into Stiles’ ear, “I’m not going to drug you with my pheromones today, Stiles. You’re going to be clear-headed when you feel all of these men in you. And I’m going to make sure that you and Derek are right across from one another with no other choice but to watch what happens to one another.”

“Why are you doing this to us?” Stiles asked. He knew he was out of line, but Peter wouldn’t risk hurting him right then.

“Because I can. Because you haven’t learned the lesson that you belong to me. You are my property. Your loyalty seems to be to Derek. I’m going to show you that Derek can break. And if I’m willing to break my nephew, imagine what I’m willing to do to a snotty little fuckwad like you?” Peter replied.

“What if I conceive one of these men’s children?” Stiles asked.

“You’re not going to be fertile until your second full moon,” Peter said. “But this will break all of you. For the first time since I purchased you, I’ll have complete obedience.”

“I thought you said that you liked my resistance,” Stiles countered.

“It was cute at first,” Peter replied. “But it got old.”

“We’re people… That’s your nephew whom you just had publicly raped,” Stiles said, growing bolder. “What you’re doing is morally wrong.”

“If I were so concerned about morals, I wouldn’t be a slave-owner, now would I?” Peter said, his lip curling menacingly. “And I never particularly liked my sister. Why would I give a rat’s ass about her son? The only reason he’s even here is that he can knock you up. 

Guards came to fetch Stiles and the other slaves, securing them into chains that hung from the ceiling as Peter announced that the festivities were about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to end it there, but I figured that would be the perfect place... Let me know what you think.


	5. Broken

The five slaves hung from chains descending from the ceiling. Isaac trembled as Danny and Jackson looked around nervously. Derek and Stiles stared only at one another. Once again, Stiles saw the look of shame and humiliation that dampened Derek’s features after being used. Peter announced that it was time to begin. Five men stepped forward, taking their places behind the slaves. Stiles didn’t get a chance to see the man who stepped behind him. His eyes were focused on Derek.

Peter’s goal was to break him through Derek so Stiles summoned all the strength he had to not cry out as the man shoved his long, fat cock into him. It hurt like hell, as did the awful pace the man worked up to. Jackson and Danny were crying. Isaac’s eyes seemed to bulge out of his head at the strain of taking the man in him. He cried out in pain. Derek simply squeezed his fists tightly. Stiles felt rage build up in him, solidifying his resolve to find a way to hurt Peter like Peter was hurting them.

The men at the party had a voracious appetite for sex. Stiles struggled to remain stoic as he was invaded by a succession of different men. A pool of semen collected on the floor beneath each of the slaves. Peter circled around, trying to discern the damage he was doing.

Stiles lost track of time and even the number of men. Every muscle ached. He could see it was wearing on Derek. Stiles waited until Derek looked at him and mouthed the words, “Stay strong.” Derek offered a weak smile of acknowledgment that was quickly replaced by a grimace as another man shoved himself into his hole.

By the time the party-goers had their fill, Stiles could barely move. But he had remained silent the entire time. It was the only way he could tell Peter to go fuck himself. When the guards released them from their shackles, Peter ordered them to rinse out the slaves and treat Danny and Jackson with _Slave-Tite_ , and deliver the other three to his rooms. Isaac, Derek, and Stiles stood by a wall with their legs spread wide as their bodies tried to heal from the damage that had been done. Isaac cried silently. Derek and Stiles watched as Jackson and Danny were rendered unconscious by the sedatives they needed to endure the _Slave-Tite_. The guards cleaned and fucked each of them, before delivering them to Peter.

The three of them stood at attention as Peter approached, dismissing the guard. “You performed well. You made me a lot of money tonight, actually,” Peter said. “Good job, all of you. But Stiles, step forward.” Stiles obeyed. Peter reared back and punched him as hard as he could in the face, sending him sprawling on the ground, pain exploding from the fractured cheekbone Peter caused. Stiles whimpered as Peter picked him up by the throat and threw him on the bed. “I don’t know what it’s going to take to break you, but believe me. I will have a lot of fun finding out.”

Stiles glared angrily at Peter. “Good fucking luck.”

Peter’s eyes became bright red as he moved closer to Peter. “I don’t think you realize the level of control an Alpha can exert on his betas. You seem to get a kick out of thwarting my attempts to reign you in. Does it turn you on, Stiles?”

“You wouldn’t know what turns me on because you can’t be bothered to stop and ask for consent,” Stiles spat, unable to control his mouth due to his rage.

“Stiles, stop this!” Derek begged.

“No,” Peter said. “Let him. Do you know what tonight is, Stiles? It’s the full moon. The only reason you and Isaac aren’t going insane right now is I’m sedating you with my power.” As if planned, Rafael entered the room, strode straight to the bed and began fucking Stiles violently. He picked Stiles up, turning them over, thrusting into him from the bottom. Peter joined in, forcing himself into Stiles as well. Despite having been put through the gauntlet of the party, Stiles was unprepared for the agony of his first double-penetration. He screamed in pain. “Just like your first time, isn’t it, Stiles?” Peter asked before turning his attention to Derek. “When we’re done with this, I want you to claim him.”

“This isn’t how I intended to claim my Mate,” Derek said. It was the first time Stiles had ever heard Derek stand up to Peter. “If I claim him, he’ll get pregnant. He’ll need constant care and love and companionship.”

“Sex releases oxytocin. He’ll be fine,” Rafael replied disinterestedly.

“Sir please… I’ll claim him, but only if you promise that he won’t be raped anymore,” Derek said.

“Slaves can’t be raped, Derek. They can only be used for whatever purpose pleases their Master. And you’re in no position to bargain,” Peter replied. “Stiles is _my_ slave. And you’re both _my_ betas.”

He and Rafael finished inside Stiles and pulled out, leaving Stiles feeling well-fucked and full. Because the stretching had been done by his Alpha, Stiles didn’t heal as quickly. He struggled to keep from crying. He looked at Derek, needing comfort and strength because he was feeling weak and defeated. He climbed off his owners and nearly collapsed into Derek’s waiting arms. Derek squeezed him tightly. “I’m so sorry about this, Stiles. Truly I am. I wanted this to be a much better moment for us.”

“It’s alright, Derek,” Stiles replied. “I want to be your Mate.”

Derek squeezed Stiles tightly, before sinking his teeth into the young boy’s neck. He marked Stiles as his and could instantly feel the connection. Stiles cried out from the pain, but he didn’t care. He was beginning to care very little what happened to his body anymore.

“Isaac, you’re spending the night with us. You two can return to your cage. I’m sure you’ll want to do some bonding now,” Peter said. A guard appeared to escort them. When they were alone again, Derek collapsed to his knees on the floor, crying.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles. I was supposed to help protect you. I just hurt you like they do,” he said.

“If you hadn’t, he would have ordered you… or worse,” Stiles replied. “Will you come lay beside me?”

“I really don’t want to have sex,” Derek said, slowly rising to his feet.

“Neither do I. I think we’ve both had enough sex to last a while,” Stiles replied, still feeling the residual effects from the party they’d just endured, and Peter was once again drugging him with his Alpha abilities.

He enjoyed feeling Derek beside him. It helped remind him that he wasn’t alone.

* * *

The next morning, guards woke them, bringing them to Peter’s office before they were even given a chance to eat or shower. Neither of them knew what new horror their Alpha had in store for them, but Stiles was becoming less patient with Peter’s treatment of them. He believed that a  _real_ Alpha would be kind, patient, understanding, and most importantly, a decent person. Peter wasn’t an Alpha. He was a monster.

As they entered Peter’s office, they saw Peter behind his desk with a man sitting comfortably in one of the chairs provided. Stiles and Derek both bowed respectfully, as they knew they were required to. The man’s eyes never left them, but Peter continued speaking as though they weren’t there. “Of the two, Stiles is the only one who is actually a part of the McCall-Hale inventory. He’s a good sex slave, though. He’s capable of working around the clock and will be just as tight at the end of it as he was at the beginning.”

“Are you sure? Some of the slaves will be rather brutal. This is their one chance per year, after all,” the man replied.

“How many slaves are there?” Peter asked.

“The current inventory says the city is utilizing 15,000 slaves. There are only about 7,000 that have qualified for this, though,” the man replied.

Peter ran some numbers. “And why is this important?” he asked.

“It creates a sense of brotherhood among the slaves, especially if they’re all using the same hole. However, we can’t use one of our own because we don’t want any of the slaves to think that there’s a pecking order among them. We’ve done several studies that show that there’s an overall increase in productivity and cooperation among slaves who share the same hole versus us renting several different slaves. And using just the one saves the city quite a bit of money,” the man replied.

Peter nodded. “So assuming a baseline of 10 slaves per hour, he’d be able to take care of all of them in about one month. I’ll just charge a baseline fee of $100,000 if you can ensure the city will cover transportation and feeding costs.”

“That sounds perfectly reasonable,” the man replied.

“I’ll do it as a lease, and temporarily transfer his title to you for the month, and it will auto-revert to me when we reprocess him back into our system,” Peter said. “But I’ll need a rather prompt delivery of him because I’ve scheduled him for a week of training before a fraternity house has leased him as a finals stress-relief sort of thing.”

The man smiled and shook Peter’s hand. Peter then ordered Stiles to show his barcode, which Stiles did. Peter scanned it and typed a few things into the computer before printing a long sheet of paper, which the man signed and returned to Peter.

“Alright, for the next month, Stiles, this is your new Master. If I hear that you besmirched the fine name of our institution in any way, you will be severely punished when you return, am I clear?” Peter asked.

“Yes sir,” Stiles replied.

The man attached a collar and leash to Stiles’ neck as Peter handed him the box containing Stiles’ cock. Derek watched helplessly as Stiles was lead away from him before they could even share a goodbye.

He followed his new master out to the vehicle waiting for them. Once inside, he was told what was going on. He had already pieced enough of it together to know that he was about to take 7000 slaves over the next month. “Of course, with your father being the Sheriff, we’re going to need someone else to oversee this instead.”

Stiles froze. “Sir, may I ask a question?”

“Sure,” the man replied.

“How is my dad?”

The man shrugged. “He’s alright. He misses you. He wonders what you’re doing. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he finds out. I wonder how he went wrong in raising you.”

It felt like daggers being stabbed through his chest. This man was going to tell his father that he was a sex slave who just got fucked by 7000 well-behaved worker slaves owned by the City of Beacon Hills. This was how Peter was going to control him. This was Peter’s plan to break him. This was Peter’s declaration of war.

* * *

Without having Stiles there, Derek felt a sense of loneliness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Peter decided that since Derek wasn’t fucking Stiles, he could earn some money in the brothel and ordered Chris to escort him there on a 24 hour cycle. This was nothing new to him. After the guard attached the chain from the bed to his collar, he had a few minutes to lube himself as the light went green and his clients began filing in. He wondered if he would ever see Stiles again and realized that if he didn’t have Stiles, he didn’t have a reason to continue living.

* * *

Four hours in and Stiles found himself fondly reminiscing about his month in the brothel at the McCall-Hale Sex Museum and Bordello. Worker slaves, by the very virtue of their trade, were all incredibly fit and muscular. They wore thin shorts to make them appear more acceptable in public. They mainly consisted of slaves that weren’t purchased for personal ownership or were somehow deemed unfit for the many brothels and bordellos that had sprung up since the anti-slavery laws were passed. Most of them were convicted of less violent crimes and worked from sun-up to sun-down maintaining the roads and public amenities of the city.

The slaves who fucked Stiles were nothing like the clients he had serviced in the brothel. Unlike the brothel’s clients, most of them weren’t even sexually attracted to men. They were only fucking him because he was a tight, wet hole and they were severely sexually deprived. The men at the brothel had chosen him because he was young, and it was one of the few times they would legally be able to sate their sexual thirst for underage flesh. Most of them didn’t even care what sex he was, simply because it was rare for females to be sentenced to slavery.

Many of them had gashes in their sides from Taser guns and whip-marks on their backs. Their hands were often rough and calloused and the vast majority of them were severely lacking in social skills. Though Stiles couldn’t exactly blame them. They only got to use their own cocks once per year… and that was if they hadn’t had any infractions whatsoever. It helped that most of them were rather quick on the draw, often needing only a couple of thrusts before they came inside Stiles, who was so full of jizz that he was having to stifle the urge to vomit as each successive slave squished into him, adding even more semen. A large screen where Stiles could see it counted down the number of slaves he needed to accommodate before he was allowed to return to the Museum… and to Derek.

He lost track of time. He focused only on the number that was trickling down from 7,263. It was going a lot faster than Peter had anticipated, but the city still owned his contract for the month, which meant that they could have him do whatever they wanted if he managed to get through all 7,263 slaves before the month was over.

When the rumbles of his empty, starving stomach could be heard over the sickening squishes and slaps of the slaves who were fucking him, the guards would give him food and water, which he’d have to consume while still being fucked. Occasionally, he’d fall asleep, waking up a while later to find the number having drastically fallen. When he was too full of semen, guards would hose him out, giving him a momentary break from the constant stream of men. His body was often sore and he was becoming numb to the idea of living. If this was what his life under Peter was going to be like, he didn’t want to continue it. Not even having Derek was enough to make him want to live like this because it wasn’t life. It was existence, and barely even that.

As the number ticked closer to zero, Stiles lost more of his will to live. He felt subhuman. He was breaking. When the number finally ticked down to zero… as the last slave finally pulled out after dumping his load inside Stiles’ body, Stiles had been on the bed for 24 straight days. The guards brought him to a nearby slave housing unit and washed him out before delivering him to the mayor. Stiles bowed as he knew he was supposed to. Slave manners were becoming second-nature to him. “As mayor of Beacon Hills, I am the listed owner of every public works slave. Right now, that means I’m also your owner. I’ve got six days until you need to return to the McCall-Hale Museum. You’ll be my personal sex slave until then,” he said.

“How do you wish me to serve you,” Stiles asked, somewhat automatically.

“For now, I want you to hide under the desk and suck me off,” the Mayor said. Stiles nodded and crawled beneath the desk. The mayor was older and definitely past his physical prime. His penis was slightly below average and was uncut. Stiles could tell he needed to shower and stifled the urge to gag as he sucked it in his mouth and began using the techniques Chris had taught him. Stiles sucked on him for several hours, bringing him several orgasms, which Stiles had no choice but to swallow down. A few hours later, Stiles was ordered to lean across the desk. Since sexual use of a slave was not a taboo, since it was considered the technical equivalent of using an everyday object, it was a common practice to see in offices and bathrooms.

Stiles no longer reacted to being penetrated. The sensation seemed as familiar as his heartbeat. The Mayor forced Stiles to beg for it. He kept whispering things in Stiles’ ear. “You’re such a filthy little whore,” the Mayor said. “You crave my cock, don’t you? You want me to fuck you harder… You’re Daddy’s nasty little slut…”

Stiles did his best not to cry because he realized that he was beginning to believe it. As the mayor was finishing inside him, the door to his office opened. Stiles didn’t bother looking up. He didn’t have any dignity left to worry about. “Get the hell off my son,” a familiar voice growled. Stiles couldn’t believe it.

“He’s city property for the next few days until I return him to his owners,” the Mayor replied.

“He’s my son, you disgusting piece of shit! He’s 17!”

“By being sentenced to slavery, he was legally emancipated and declared an adult,” the Mayor reminded Sheriff John Stilinski. “He’s currently part of the City inventory and therefore I am his owner for the next six days.”

“I’ve kept quiet about a lot of the shit you do, but if you expect me to just walk away knowing that you’re fucking my son, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m taking him home,” John said.

“He’s still a slave,” the Mayor said. “The McCall-Hale Museum owns his contract and I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you what happens to Indentured Servants who desert or the free people who help them. Do you really have the heart to bring him back to a brothel?”

Stiles wanted nothing more than to go home with his father, but he knew that if he wasn’t returned, Peter would find them and his slave contract would be officially deemed permanent. Punishment for desertion included his cock being destroyed, public administration of at least 100 strokes of the cane, and anyone who helped would be enslaved and suffer the same fate. Stiles couldn’t bear to see his father humiliated like that.

It took several minutes of them arguing, but the Mayor agreed to remand custody of Stiles to his father so long as the sheriff had him back in time for transportation back to the Museum. The mayor insisted on keeping custody of Stiles’ cock, to ensure compliance.

When he was finally in his father’s car, Stiles allowed himself to cry. He simultaneously wanted to be held and yet never touched again. He wanted to hear his father tell him everything was going to be alright, but he couldn’t bear to look his father in the eyes. He was an embarrassment. He was now the family’s whore.

John sensed the storm brewing inside his son’s mind. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I heard some of the things he was saying to them and I need you to know that they’re not true.”

“They are, though,” Stiles replied. “I don’t even know how many men have fucked me, dad. It’s been at least more than 8,000. I can’t remember how long I’ve been enslaved. My owner keeps finding ways to try and add to my time and he told me he’s going to make me a permanent slave.”

John gripped the steering wheel so hard, he nearly broke bones in his hand. “What’s being done to you is nothing short of a crime, Stiles. I wish I could get you out of it.”

“I really just want to die,” Stiles said. “I don’t know who I am anymore. If I ever get free, I’m not going to know who I am anymore after I get out. There’s going to be nothing left of me. Nobody will want me…”

“I’m going to hire a lawyer and see if I can get your sentence appealed. There are things they’re not supposed to do to indentured slaves. I can make the case that they broke their agreement and get you free… we’ll move wherever you want. And I’ll never let another man hurt you again,” John said. It killed him to see his son like this. Stiles’ eyes, which had always been so sharp, bright, full, and filled with life, were now unfocused and dead. He wondered if this little break from it all would be more helpful or harmful to Stiles, but he needed to give his son at least a small reprieve.

When he finally saw his home, Stiles began crying again. His father had kept his room exactly as it was the day he was brought to court.

“Why don’t you take a nice shower and relax, I’ll make dinner,” John said. “I’m sure they’re not feeding you real food.”

Stiles stood in the doorway of his room. “Dad, do you promise that we can move as far away from here as possible when I’m free?”

John pulled his son in for a hug. “Anywhere on the globe. You pick it, I’ll make it happen.”

“What about Derek?” Stiles asked.

“Who’s Derek?” John asked.

“He’s another slave.”

“Do you like him?”

 Stiles nodded.

“Then Derek will be able to come to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot of terrible things happened in this chapter, but next chapter, things are going to start looking up for Stiles, Derek, and the ones we love.


	6. A Ray of Sunshine

The shower was hot and relaxing. He pulled on what he remembered were his favorite pajamas and the fabric felt foreign against his skin, having been naked since he was enslaved. Protecting his own modesty seemed to be an alien concept at this point. He didn’t see a need to, considering more than 8,000 men had fucked him.

He went downstairs to join his father and stood there, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, his feet spread apart in display mode. It was a standard presentation form for slaves, particularly sex slaves. It took several moments for John to realize that his son was waiting permission to sit. It broke his heart to see that the boy in the room with him was so far from the son who had been taken from him by the guards. “Stiles, you don’t have to receive permission to sit. This is your house. Until I bring you back, you’re Free.”

“It’s easier for me to just remain in my slave routines,” Stiles replied. “It’ll make it easier on me when I go back. I’m going to have a week of training before some frat house gets to use me for a week. I don’t think they’ll be asking me to edit their term papers for them.”

John shuddered at the cavalier manner in which Stiles spoke, but had to remind himself that this had become his reality. He decided to try and distract Stiles from the fate that awaited him upon his return to servitude. “So tell me more about that Derek guy.”

“He was the first person to ask my permission,” Stiles said. “He’s handsome. He’s sweet. He’s as protective of me as he can be… and now, he’s my Mate.”

John’s eyes narrowed as he turned around. “What do you mean Mate?”

Though they kept largely to themselves, Werewolves were known about by humans, since they were partially responsible for the discovery that allowed the bizarre magic that permitted the penis Separation technique used on slaves. John had only ever heard the term “Mate” in regards to how werewolves choose a potential person to bear offspring.

“My owner… he’s an Alpha. He bit me,” Stiles replied, flashing his eyes yellow. He prayed that his father would continue to want to protect him now that he was a monster. “He’s going to force me and Derek to have kids.”

“So it’s true?” John replied.

“What?”

“That werewolves can reproduce even when it’s two men?” John asked, trying to act less freaked out by this revelation than he actually was. Stiles could tell he was putting forth considerable effort, but was thankful for it.

Stiles shrugged. “I’m not even sure, to be honest. All I know is that he keeps me in a small cell with Derek and we’re forced to do it a lot… when he’s not making us do other stuff.”

“He made a permanent change to you that can’t be undone,” John said. “I’m calling the lawyer. You’re not going back to that place. That was a violation of the Contract.”

“I’m his Beta, dad. He’d find me,” Stiles said. “And even if you call the lawyer, the appeals process will take months… maybe even years. Until then, I’ll still be returned to my Owner and maybe it’s better that way.”

“What do you mean it’s better that way?” John asked.

“Because he never taught me how to control my shift on the Full Moon… he just sedated me with pheromones. If I’m here, I could lose control… I could hurt you…” Stiles said. “Besides, I’m not sure I can function in the real world anymore.”

“Stiles, you’ve only been a slave for a few months… they can’t have broken you down that much so quickly…”

Stiles wasn’t sure when he started crying, but he became aware of the wetness on his face. “I don’t see how I can go back to being the old me. Not after what has been done to me. I can’t even look other people in the eye because I know what disgusting things I’ve been made to do.”

“We can get you help. But you have to understand that none of that is your fault,” John replied.

The conversation didn’t go anywhere and Stiles spent the rest of his break from slavery, secretly wishing to return to the routine of his enslaved life. He felt like something less-than-dirt, but at least he knew how to navigate that world. And every moment he was with his dad, Derek and Isaac were being subjected to Peter without him there to help them.

John didn’t know how to help his son, especially considering that the reprieve was so very temporary and he had no way of fathoming what was being done to Stiles’ mind. As he drove his son back to the Mayor’s office, the ride was silent. His thoughts were filled with all the things he didn’t even know how to put into words. He loved his son more than anything and he’d already spoke to a lawyer who guaranteed he could get the sentence commuted, but that it would take a year.

As he pulled into the parking lot, he looked over at the sad boy who sat in the passenger seat. “Just one year,” he said. “One year of hell and then we’ll leave this place and never come back.”

“Do you think I’ll survive a year?” Stiles asked. “I’ve barely survived a few months.”

“You’re my son, Stiles. You’re going to survive whatever this asshole throws at you. And the moment this lawyer has everything through, you’ll be free. I’ll purchase and then free Derek, and we’ll leave Beacon Hills,” John replied.

“You don’t even know Derek. You’d do that for me?” Stiles asked.

“If he’s important to you, then yes,” John replied before getting out of the car. He went around and helped Stiles pull off his clothes before forcing Stiles to look into his eyes. “Just one year.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” John replied, hugging him. “I love you, Stiles.”

“I love you, too, Dad,” Stiles replied.

The Mayor walked outside to greet Stiles and his father. “Just as promised. Time to return the little slut to his owner.”

“Don’t talk about my son that way!” John said in a lethal tone.

“He’s a sex slave, Sheriff. Your pride and joy… the one who is going to carry on the Stilinski name… he’s a whore that men pay money to bust a nut in and who has been fucked by the best-behaved public works slaves Beacon Hills has to offer,” the Mayor replied.

“If you don’t shut your mouth, you’ll find you have a very difficult time with press meetings,” John said.

“Was that a threat?”

“It was a fucking promise,” John replied. “I’ve covered for you more times than I can count. It’d be a shame if the people found out that you are nearly incapable of driving while sober… so close to election time.”

Stiles saw the corners of the Mayor’s mouth curl as he was ushered into a car headed back to the Museum without even being able to say goodbye to his father. For the second time in his life, he was being carted away without the ability to say goodbye.

He was thankful that he wasn’t fucked by anyone, and had enjoyed a few days of no sex, but knew the reprieve was only temporary.

Peter was there to greet him as the car pulled up to the mansion. Being so long out of his Alpha’s influence, he felt the instant oppressive nature the moment he laid eyes on him. Peter yanked him out of the car. “Did you have a good visit with Daddy?”

“Yes sir,” Stiles replied. There was no use in lying.

“Your Mate missed you, Stiles. But I put him in the brothel so he’d have company. Should I retrieve him?” Peter asked.

“Please!” Stiles begged. “Please get him out of there!”

“I would have thought that you’d have learned your lesson,” Peter replied. “I’m your Alpha. I’m your owner. _I_ call the shots.”

Peter brought Stiles into his office and bent him across the desk before fucking him. “Did you miss me?” Peter asked as he withdrew his cock entirely and shoved it back inside. Knowing he wasn’t permitted to, Stiles was barely able to stifle the scream of pain.

“No sir,” Stiles replied honestly.

“Did you miss Derek?” Peter asked, picking up his brutal pace.

“Yes sir,” Stiles said.

“Well, he had well over 4000 men to play with,” Peter whispered into his ear. The rest of their fuck was silent, save for the squish and slap noises that normally came with sex. Peter pulled out after coming inside Stiles, making him once again feel drugged. He summoned another slave who cleaned him off and dragged Stiles body back to the breeding pens where he was thrown on the bed.

A while later, Stiles heard the door open. He was still dazed from the pheromones. Derek was tossed into cell. Stiles could smell other men on him, but he didn’t care. He forced himself off the bed. The room seemed to swirl around him as he stumbled to Derek’s side. “You’re alright!” Derek breathed as he pulled Stiles close. “I was so worried I’d never see you again.” Fatigue darkened all of his features, but he was glad to have Stiles in his arms again.

“I missed you,” Stiles said. His voice was slurred, but he was starting to feel better. “I’m so sorry about what happened to you while I was gone…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Derek replied.. “Besides, it was nothing compared to what you went through.”

“Peter has to be stopped… but there’s something you should know,” Stiles said. “I saw my dad. He’s going to talk to the lawyers. Peter broke the contract with the state when he turned me. My dad is going to appeal and try to get me free.”

“That’s wonderful,” Derek said before the realization hit him. “I won’t see you anymore.”

“My dad said he’s going to buy your contract and free you,” Stiles said. “And we’ll leave this place together.”

Derek smiled, but it seemed to Stiles more sad than happy. “After he pays the lawyers to get you free, there’s no way that he’ll be able to afford to buy my contract from Peter.”

“My dad promised… he’ll figure it out,” Stiles said, but he realized that Derek was probably right.

“Let’s not think about that,” Derek said. “You’re my Mate now and we haven’t made love.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Stiles asked. “If you don’t want to, I’d understand. After the month we had…”

“We can’t let what we’re made to do affect us like that,” Derek said. “We should make love _because_ Peter did what he did. When you had to perform with Isaac, you turned it into an act of defiance. On the off chance your father _can_ purchase my contract and free me, we can’t spend the rest of our lives afraid to express our love because Peter is a sociopath.”

“Do you love me?” Stiles asked.

Derek thought about it for a moment. “I’m sure I probably will. I know I like you.”

Stiles smiled as he leaned forward and kissed Derek. “I can accept ‘probably.’” He pulled Derek back on top of him. “If we do this, you might get me pregnant…”

“Let’s make a baby,” Derek joked as he spread Stiles’ legs and got into position.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Stiles asked again.

“For the last time,” Derek replied. “Yes.”

Stiles could feel himself getting wet in the same way he always did for Derek. His lover was able to easily slip inside him. It felt different this time. Shivers swept through his body. “Derek… what is that?”

“For the first time, you can feel it the way you’re supposed to… because we’re Mates,” Derek replied. “This is what sex _should_ feel like…”

Each time Derek moved, Stiles felt him brush against something inside him that felt amazing. “If it felt like this all the time, maybe I wouldn’t hate it…”

“You like it when I do it,” Derek replied, nibbling at Stiles’ neck, driving him wild with the sensations he was eliciting. Stiles scratched at the sheets beneath him, his hips and back arcing as Derek picked up speed. “I won’t last long…”

“Just a little longer…” Stiles pleaded. He could feel his orgasm approaching.

“Don’t worry,” Derek said. “I’ll make sure you come…”

The Derek thrust several more times before he emptied himself inside Stiles who was too busy contemplating the reality that he might end up having Derek’s baby to think about the fact that he hadn’t yet come like Derek had promised. Derek pulled out and attached his dick to Stiles “What are you doing?”

“I told you I’d make sure you came, and since we're Mates, you can use my dick,” Derek said before climbing on top of Stiles and slowly lowering himself onto the erect dick. Stiles gasped. He could feel it. He could feel everything, just as he had with Isaac. “How does that feel?” Derek asked as he picked up the speed, staring into Stiles’ eyes.

“It feels amazing,” Stiles replied, struggling to speak. This felt better than Isaac had. There was an intensity to the act that he’d never experienced. He wondered if this was what love felt like.

When Stiles finally came, it was explosive. He closed his eyes as the sensations seemed to fill every inch of his body and changed in the most exciting and unexpected ways. Derek smiled as he watched his Mate experience his orgasm.

Stiles noticed the look on Derek’s face once he finally opened his eyes. “What?”

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Derek replied, leaning down to kiss Stiles.

They washed up after lying together for a while.

Neither of them knew when they fell asleep. They only knew that they woke up to Peter and Chris entering their cell. Peter smelled strongly of Isaac, though different somehow. “You’re both with child… how exciting!” Peter said.

“We had sex once,” Derek said dismissively.

“I’ve been augmenting his fertility,” Peter said. “That little trip he took… the separation from you. It was partly to break him. It doesn’t seem as though it worked as well as I’d have thought. But at any rate, Derek, congratulations. You’re going to be a dad.”

“If Stiles is pregnant, then he can’t survive on Slave Cakes and water alone. He’s going to need real food. He’s going to need raw meat and the ability to build a den. You know how our species is when pregnant,” Derek said.

“Stiles is only here for a week, then he’s going to be sent on another assignment. When he comes back, he’ll be given the accommodations needed to gestate healthy pups,” Peter said.

“And he’ll be on assignment during some of the most important parts of the pregnancy!” Derek argued.

“He’ll be here for a week and there for a week,” Peter replied dismissively.

“That’s one fourth of the pregnancy!” Derek said, it was clear he was becoming angry.

“Derek, calm down,” Stiles said. “Pregnancy lasts nine months. I’ll be okay for two weeks. Most people go their first few weeks of pregnancy without even knowing they’re pregnant.”

“Not werewolves, Stiles. We follow the same gestation as the Gray Wolf: eight to ten weeks,” Derek said. Stiles’ hand reflexively went to his stomach. He couldn’t believe that in a couple of months, he’d give birth to a baby.

“He’ll be fine, Derek. Do you honestly think I’m going to harm the future of the Hale line?” Peter asked.

“You enslaved me and have sold my body for sex… so forgive me if I’m not entirely confident in your ability to take care of the next generation of Hales,” Derek said in a move Stiles thought was bolder than he’d ever attempted.

“You could have challenged me for my position as Alpha, Derek. I couldn’t have that. You were much more useful to me and to the Hale line as a slave,” Peter replied. “By the way… you have a cousin now. My son Scott was born a few days ago. He’s with Rafael. He’s going to be a great wolf. 

Stiles thought that the idea of Peter raising another person was probably one of the most horrifying things he’d ever heard of.

* * *

 

Stiles week of training was focused mostly on how to increase the pleasure of a person using his body. It was apparently well-known that Stiles would merely lie on the bed as men used him and would do little to nothing to assist them in their use of his body. Stiles maintained that since he didn’t consent to the sex, he shouldn’t have to help it along.

Throughout the week, Stiles and Derek made love several more times. Derek told him that the oxytocin released during sex was good for both him and the baby. They were in each other’s arms when a guard came to retrieve Stiles for his week-long assignment at the frat house. Stiles was fucked, bathed, and allowed to pee before he was brought to Peter’s office and presented to the President of the fraternity who eyed him carefully. “And you’re sure you don’t have any females?”

“I’m positive,” Peter said. “We only carry male inventory. But you won’t get a tighter hole from anywhere else for this price.”

“I just don’t know how my Brothers will be able to use him,” the President said as he frowned. “We only have two gay Brothers in the fraternity.”

“I remember when it was time for exams,” Peter said. “When I was stressed and just needed to fuck the brains out of someone to let off a little steam. It didn’t matter if that person was male or female. As long as the hole was tight and wet, I fucked it. Your brothers are in that stage where they’ll fuck just about anything, even if they won’t admit it out loud. Put this one in a room and only allow private use and you’ll definitely get your Fraternity’s money’s worth.”

“If after a few days nobody has used him, can I return him for a partial refund?” the President asked.

“Normally we wouldn’t, but for you I’ll make an exception. Do you want to try him before you leave here?” Peter asked. “We have some private rooms you could use. And that way before any money has changed hands, you will know if you made the right decision.”

The man nodded and Peter led them to one of the small sampling rooms. It had dim lighting and barely enough room for a bed. Peter closed the door behind them and left Stiles alone with the man. They stood there awkwardly until Stiles realized he needed to make the first move. “Sir, do you want to remove your clothes or shall I?”

The man seemed startled. “Oh, I can do it.” He clumsily unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers. His flaccid dick hung limply between his legs. “I’m not really into dudes, so…”

“It’s alright, sir,” Stiles replied. He knew Peter would punish him severely for anything less than perfect behavior. “Pleasure slaves are taught how to handle situations like that.” Stiles dropped to his knees and began stimulating the man, who started releasing a steady stream of “Fuck yeah…” and “Suck my cock…” Stiles stopped when he could feel that the man was at full mast and turned around, presenting his ass. “Do you want me to be standing, lying down on the bed, or to ride you while you lie down?”

“Lean against the wall,” the man ordered. Stiles obeyed and the man pushed in. “Holy fuck that’s tight…” The thrusts were painful. The man possessed no skill whatsoever and Stiles bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out several times. “How many men have fucked you?” the man asked.

“More than 8,000,” Stiles replied.

“And you still feel this good?” the guy said incredulously. “You should teach my girlfriend a thing or two.” They stood there as the man took his pleasure before finally coming inside Stiles. “I bet it’s mostly old guys who fuck you. I bet it was a nice change having a young, hard rod like mine in your hole.”

Pleasure slaves were supposed to say whatever ego-assuaging thing the Free men wanted them to, so Stiles nodded and lied. “Yes sir. Servicing you was a nice change from the ordinary.”

He was still inside Stiles when he asked, “So what do I do now? Normally when I’m fucking my girlfriend, I’m wearing a condom… don’t want to knock her up, you know?”

“If you’re done using me, sir, you can pull out and I’ll clean you off. If you wish to continue using me, we can change positions,” Stiles said. He rolled his eyes, wondering how dumb a person had to be to not know that this was the normal routine.

“I’ll fuck you again on the way back to campus,” the man said as he pulled out. Stiles dropped back to his knees and took the cock that just fucked him in his mouth, running his tongue along its length until it was clean. The man pulled his pants back up and once they were buttoned, Stiles opened the door and followed him back to Peter’s office.

“How was it?” Peter asked as they entered the office.

“One of the best fucks I’ve had in a while,” the man admitted. “I’m just not sure how to sell it to my Brothers.”

Both of them looked at Stiles in a manner that made him feel more uncomfortable than he normally would by the scenario. “Tell them that it’s not really gay. Stiles is a pleasure slave. Using a slave for sex is more like masturbation 2.0. You just put your dick in, fuck as hard and as long as you want, drop your load and you’re done with it. It’s not like Stiles is going to call you. He’s an object to be used for a purpose… and that purpose is sex.”

“I never thought of it that way,” the man said.

Stiles stood there as they signed the relevant paperwork and Peter handed the man the box containing Stiles’ cock. “Just make sure you feed him at least three times per day and you let him urinate.”

“It’s just like having a dog,” the man said.

“Except you can fuck him without it being bestiality,” Peter added. He extended his hand to the man and shook it firmly. “It’s been great doing business with you, Joshua.”

“Thank you,” Joshua replied as he let go of Peter’s hand and affixed a collar and leash to Stiles’ neck and lead him out to the car, where the driver was waiting for them. Once inside, Joshua put up the partition and fucked Stiles the entire ride to the University.

* * *

 

The Fraternity was exactly what Stiles expected it to be. Joshua set him up in the basement and chained him to the bed. Fraternity brothers were allowed to freely use him. But what surprised Stiles was the one brother who only ever came down to make sure Stiles was alright. He gave him real food, not just Slave Cakes or Slave Chow. He brought cold, filtered water instead of room temperature tap water. He helped clean the semen off of Stiles and brought him to the bathroom to pee.

After the second day, Stiles finally summoned the bravery to ask. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“You’re a person,” the man replied. “The others can’t see you that way because they don’t know what it’s like. 

“And you do?” Stiles asked. He realized how impertinent that must have sounded and chastised himself when he saw the man stand up and begin to unbutton his pants. _Great_ , he thought. _I just cost myself the only friend I had in the place…_ He prepared for the man to get onto the bed and begin using him, but was shocked to see that the man was completely smooth below the belt. His cock and balls weren’t attached. “You’re a slave?” Stiles asked.

“I used to be,” the man replied. “I was someone’s house slave. And he was very cruel to me. But he kept all the bodily damage to the skin that would be covered once I was released.”

“Sounds like he was an asshole…” Stiles replied.

“He was. He regularly beat me in public,” the man said. “And one day, someone saw it. A guy saw how I was being treated and he couldn’t stand it, so he went up to my Owner and punched him square in the jaw. He told my owner that if he ever saw him mistreating his slaves again, he’d call his dad… the Sheriff.”

Stiles sat up, unable to believe what he was hearing. “It… it was you?”

The man nodded. “You probably saved my life that day, Stiles. What you did gave me my freedom but at a cost I could never have imagined. I’m so sorry.”

Stiles began to cry. Instantly the man looked sorry. “I shouldn’t have told you… I’m so sorry. Here I am Free… and you’re chained to a bed being fucked at all hours of the day. I’m such an idiot…”

“No,” Stiles replied. “That’s not the reason I’m crying. I’m crying because I know that it wasn’t in vain. I actually helped you. I’d been so afraid that I only caused you to get hurt more. What I did wasn’t for nothing. What has happened to me isn’t for nothing.”

“Can I give you a hug?” the man asked. Stiles nodded and the man leaned closer, wrapping Stiles in a tight embrace. When the hug ended, Stiles learned that the man was studying law in an attempt to help overturn Slavery sentences and hopefully repeal Slavery all together. He revealed that he doesn’t wear his cock all the time as a reminder of what he went through and what Stiles did. “I’ve made Dean’s List. I’ve got a 4.0 GPA. And who knows? Maybe I could be the one who gets you out.”

“My dad is actually hiring a lawyer. It’ll take about a year, but he has a good case,” Stiles replied.

“I could come visit you at the Museum… Rent you for an hour and we could just hang out,” he suggested.

“I go for a thousand dollars a fuck,” Stiles replied. “I’m not sure you could afford an hour.”

“Because of what he did, my Owner was forced to pay a lot of fines and stuff. A lot of that went to me… mostly to keep me from suing his ass off. I’ve got plenty to get me through school. And I was smart enough to get some good scholarships. Giving you at least an hour’s reprieve is the least I can do,” he insisted.

Stiles smiled. “Then by all means. I’ll let my Owner know. What name should I give him?”

The man grinned. “I can’t believe we’ve been talking all this time and I forgot to give you my name…”

“Well don’t keep me waiting!” Stiles coaxed as several fraternity brothers pounded on the door.

“HEY JORDAN?!” one of them shouted. “You about done in there? I need to bust a nut!”

 “They certainly know how to kill a moment, don’t they?” he said, looking at Stiles as he cocked his head. “My name is Jordan. Jordan Parrish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say WHAAAAA???
> 
> Did you see it going there? What did you think? Let me know in the comments section!


	7. It's Gotta Get Worse Before it Gets Better

The fraternity brothers were a varied mix. Most of them were insatiable in their appetites for sex and Stiles was being used nearly around the clock. The only break he’d get was when Jordan would come and feed and bathe him. Some of the brothers wanted Stiles to urge them on. Some made out with him. Others just fucked him as hard as they could as often as they could. There were only two times in the week that he was there that he was brought out of the basement. Joseph, the chapter president, was the first to bring him out. He ordered Jordan to clean Stiles before he paraded Stiles through the campus into a building that contained classrooms and offices. He knocked on a closed office door. A tall, slender man opened it.

“Joshua,” the man said dryly.

“I thought that maybe this could convince you to bump me up to an A,” Joshua said.

“You’re bribing me with sex?” the man asked.

“Don’t think of it like that,” Joshua replied. “This is a sex slave. My fraternity rented him from the McCall-Hale museum so that we could better concentrate on our exams. His hole is like magic. I can’t explain it. No matter how many times it gets fucked, it’s still just as tight and amazing as the first time.”

“Shut the door,” the man said. Joshua obeyed. “You got a C on your final. Letting me fuck this pleasure slave isn’t going to be enough to bump you up two letter grades.”

“Doctor Harris… please…” Joshua begged.

What the professor deemed to be “enough” angered Stiles. Dr. Harris watched as Joshua fucked Stiles, forcing Stiles to suck his cock throughout the act. When Joshua was done, the professor had his chance. Stiles was made to serve them both coffee while they discussed Joshua’s final exam. When they were both aroused again, they double-penetrated Stiles. They didn’t try to work in tandem, which resulted in nothing but pain and discomfort for the slave. The last act was for Harris to fuck Joseph. Stiles knew how that would end for him, though.

Once they left the office, Joshua brought him back to the fraternity house and fucked him several times, each time getting more brutal than the last. “If you tell anyone about what happened, you’ll be killed. Do you understand?” he growled into Stiles’ ear.

Stiles nodded. “Yes sir.”

As soon as Joshua left, Jordan came in. Stiles allowed himself to cry with Jordan there to hug him, rub his back, and tell him it would be alright. “Your dad will get you out.”

“But until he does, I still have to have sex with these people I don’t know. I still have to suffer death threats after having been raped,” Stiles replied. “It isn’t fair.”

“You’re right,” Jordan replied. “It’s not. But if anyone could get through this, it’s you.” He held Stiles tightly, allowing his new friend to let out his frustration.

The steady stream of visitors continued until Friday afternoon. Jordan made sure to visit just as frequently, giving Stiles the reprieve he needed and the companionship he craved without Derek’s presence. Joshua came to unhook Stiles’ chain from the bed and brought him upstairs. “Alright, my brothers,” Joseph announced. “We’ve been fucking this slave all week long to clear our heads as we studied… but now, it’s time to celebrate. Let’s really get our party on!”

Hands grabbed at Stiles’ body, pulling him to the floor with a hard thud. He had no time to grasp what was happening to him before people were shoving beer bottles into him, lifting his legs into the air, so the liquid could drain into his body. Stiles worried about the effect it would have on his baby, but knew he couldn’t ask them to stop due to his pregnancy. Beer bottles were replaced with dicks, then broom handles, and any other object they could think of to shove into him. The only one who played no part in his brutalization was Jordan, who could barely stand to watch what was being done to his friend.

“Hey Parrish… get over here and enjoy him,” someone called.

“It’s alright,” Parrish said. “I’m not really up for it.”

Someone grabbed him and brought him to Stiles who was bent over a couch with the better part of a wine glass stuck inside him. His wolf was clawing at the edge of his psyche and Stiles struggled to keep it under wraps, though he trembled beneath the agony of what was being done to him.

His brothers pulled down Parrish’s pants, making Parrish silently thank the heavens that he had decided to wear his dick that day. His brother stroked Parrish to full mast before removing the wine bottle from Stiles, causing him to whimper slightly. Parrish leaned down and whispered into Stiles’ ear his most sincere apologies for what seemed to be about to happen. His brothers chanted “fuck the slave” over and over as Parrish hovered at Stiles’ entrance, one mere push away from experiencing what it felt like to penetrate someone for the first time in his life. He closed his eyes, but as he did, he remembered what it was like the first time his owner fucked him. He remembered being forced to look in a mirror and watch as his face reddened and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head from the pain of it. He remembered the explosive, nearly crippling pain of the cane against his buttocks and thighs for infractions as minor as preparing his master’s scotch with the wrong number of ice cubes. He remembered the sharp sting of the whip against his back, splitting open his flesh in jagged lines that permanently scarred his body. And worse than that, he remembered what it felt like during the weekends his master brought him to the public brothels and sold his flesh to pay off gambling debts. He immediately pulled away and doubled over, throwing up on the floor near the couch.

“Drink too much, Parrish?” someone teased.

“No,” Jordan replied, wiping his mouth. “You guys are monsters. And you nearly made me one, too.”

“Dude,” Joshua said. “Chill out. He’s just a slave. He’s a sex slave at that… he _likes_ when he’s being fucked. It’s his purpose.”

“No. He’s a person. And he’s more of a man than any of you will ever be,” Parrish said. “And how would any single one of you know what he likes? You’ve all lined up all week long and fucked him without ever asking him a single question about himself. Never did any one of you ask permission to fuck him.”

“He’s a sex slave, Jordan. You don’t need permission to fuck him. You just stick your dick in him and thrust until you come,” Joshua replied. “And why are you choosing now to get all self-righteous about using him? You’ve spent more time in the basement with him than anyone else.”

“I never used him,” Parrish replied. “I kept him company and I talked to him. And I did it because when I was a slave, he saved me from being beaten to death by my owner.”

A wave of hushed gasps fell over the brothers, all of whom stopped whatever debauchery they were participating in. “You were a slave?” Joshua asked.

“Yes,” Parrish replied, pulling up his sleeve to reveal his barcode tattoo. “I was a slave. And this innocent boy has done nothing to deserve what any of you have done to him this week. His only crime is having been brave enough to stand up to injustice and I owe him at least as much and even more.” Anger filled Parrish’s eyes as he stared at his brothers. “I joined this fraternity because the brothers were supposed to exemplify justice, courage, and fairness. But this week has shown that you are all about as unjust, cowardly, and unfair as it gets.”

“Jordan, none of us knew…” someone said as they reached over, hitting the button that turned off the party music.

“What didn’t you know?” Jordan asked.

“We didn’t know what you had been through. We didn’t know this would affect you in this way,” another brother spoke up. “We’re sorry.”

“It shouldn’t matter that I’m a former slave. It should matter that _nobody_ should have the right to own another person. It should matter that consent should be _required_ before you have sex with someone,” Jordan said. “So feel free to celebrate the end of your semester, but you’re not going to victimize him any longer.”

Jordan helped Stiles stand up. His werewolf healing was already repairing the damage done by the glass bottles.

He guided Stiles to the bathroom before helping him clean off, even rinsing out the acrid combination of wine, beer, and semen that had been put inside him. Stiles remained silent. He didn’t know how to handle the situation in which he found himself. The words ‘thank you’ just didn’t seem strong enough. Once he was clean, Jordan dried Stiles off and brought him to his bedroom where he fluffed his pillows, offering Stiles the bed as he pulled a sleeping bag from his closet and rolled it out on the floor. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” Stiles said, breaking the silence between them.

“It’s fine, Stiles,” Jordan replied. “You’ve still got a few days before you get returned to the Museum. You should be comfortable.”

“I’ll be alright,” Stiles said softly. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“If I have to order you to stop being so subservient I will,” Jordan replied.

Stiles climbed off the bed and sat at the foot of the sleeping bag. “At least let me do something to thank you for standing up for me.”

“Stiles, you don’t have to thank me. You’ve already done more than you’ll ever know,” Jordan replied.

Stiles still wanted to do _something_ for his friend. He only had one thing he could offer, though. “If you want, you can fuck me. What they were doing hurt like hell and you stopped them. My body is the one thing I can offer you. Please…”

“No,” Jordan said, shaking his head firmly. “You’re my friend, Stiles. That’s how I want it to stay. Let me be one of the few people who haven’t victimized you.”

* * *

 

Jordan made sure he was the one who dropped Stiles back off. And though he seriously considered not returning Stiles, he knew that the trouble they’d both get into would undermine everything Stiles had done for him. “So what happens after you leave my car?” he asked as they turned down the road that ended at the museum.

“I’m going to be having a baby,” Stiles said. “With someone I love a lot.”

“Well that’s good then,” Jordan replied. “I’ll make sure I come and see the baby.”

“We won’t get to keep it. Our owner will raise it instead,” Stiles replied quietly. “And as soon as I’ve had the baby, I’ll be impregnated again and the cycle will repeat.”

“Stiles I’m so sorry,” Jordan said, placing a comforting hand on Stiles’ knee.

“It’s not your fault,” Stiles replied as they pulled into the loop for the museum. Peter was there to greet them. As Stiles got out of the car, he cast a sad look at his friend. “Please visit me soon,” begged.

“I’ll visit you as often as I can,” Jordan promised.

Stiles walked toward Peter, stifling the urge to cry. “Where’s Derek?” he asked.

“He’s in your cell. I spruced it up for you like I promised,” Peter replied, turning on his heels to lead Stiles back to the breeding cells. He didn’t speak. They simply walked the long path until they reached the cells. Stiles could smell Isaac and Derek. But he could also smell someone else. Peter opened the cell and pushed Stiles in. There was a more comfortable-looking bed and a fridge had been brought in and stocked with the various foods that would help nourish the baby growing inside him. Derek was on the bed, lying on his stomach a slender male werewolf with sharp features drove himself into Derek. Stiles looked more closely and could see that the man was an Alpha and his claws were dug sharply into the smooth area where Derek’s dick should be. He looked around and saw Derek’s dick on a shelf. The Alpha kept whispering the word “come” into Derek’s ear. Each time he did, Derek would tense and whimper.

“Is this your Mate?” the man asked.

“Yes sir,” Derek managed to reply through his tears.

“This is the one who is carrying your baby?”

“Yes sir,” Derek repeated.

The Alpha removed his claws from Derek’s front and withdrew his cock from Derek’s ass, moving to his feet to assess Stiles. “Should I fuck him like I’ve been fucking you for the last five days?”

“Please don’t hurt him…” Derek begged. He looked completely spent. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and Stiles could see the strain on his face as he tried to force himself up, but was unable to even support his own weight. “Deucalion, please… Please don’t hurt him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought of this chapter. Stiles is going to have his first baby in the next one...


	8. Fighting

“I won’t hurt him, Derek,” the Alpha replied with a sinister smile. “Orgasms are good for the developing baby… and I just gave you a quarter of a million of them… I’ll do the same for him.”

“How can you give a slave a quarter of a million orgasms in five days when he isn’t even wearing his dick?” Stiles challenged, backing away from the Alpha who was looking at him as though he were a meal.

“An Alpha can control a beta, even when he’s not in the same pack. I’ll show you,” the Alpha said. In a motion that was too fast for Stiles to resist, he threw the beta onto the bed and pounced on top of him, driving his steel-hard cock straight into Stiles, who screamed out in the pain of it. He reached around, digging his claws into the smooth skin where his dick ought to be and whispered the word “come” into Stiles ear.

Stiles felt the orgasm come out of nowhere. He let out a small cry. Deucalion whispered it again. Yet another orgasm hit him. Once per second, he forced Stiles to come. Each time hurt more and more. Derek had gone through it for five days straight with no breaks. Despite the fact that he wanted to fight Deucalion to protect Stiles and their baby, his body demanded rest and he passed out, leaving Stiles alone to deal with Deucalion.

Twenty minutes passed before Deucalion broke the silence between them. “I did this to Derek all the time when I owned him. With him as my beta, it had a much deeper effect than it does now. I could control his body fully. I haven’t taught Peter how to do this, but believe me, if he learns, you’ll never have any control ever again,” Deucalion said, before making Stiles come four more times. It was becoming agony as his muscles tensed.

“I have no control now,” Stiles argued, mustering enough venom in his voice as possible.

“You’re right,” Deucalion replied. “And yet you can’t resign yourself to your fate. You have it very well as Peter’s slave. Do you want to know what I did to Derek when I bought him?”

“No,” Stiles replied. He didn’t. If Derek wasn’t the one who told him, he didn’t want to find out.

“I was the one who took his virginity.  I fucked him as hard and as fast as I could. It was the day after he lost his mother and sisters. He was so sad… so broken… But it just made the tears he cried more satisfying. It made the process of breaking him more pleasurable. I knew that the Hales would be the key to solving the crisis our kind found ourselves in. Every Alpha in the western hemisphere except Peter fucked Derek,” Deucalion said.

“You’re a monster,” Stiles growled.

“Sticks and stones, slave,” Deucalion replied. “Have you ever wondered why Derek is always so keen to obey orders and do what he’s told?” Stiles _did_ wonder, but he remained silent and still. “It’s because I taught him the lesson of what happens when you disobey.” Stiles was hit by several more orgasms. He began to black out. His body was trying to protect him and the baby. Deucalion seemed to realize this and plunged the claws of his other hand into the back of Stiles’ neck. Stiles roared in pain. “You don’t get to escape this lesson, Stiles. Now the real teaching can begin.”

Stiles began seeing memories of Derek. Deucalion was showing him what he’d done to Derek. He saw Derek being fucked by Alphas again and again. He saw them playing games with his healing powers. He saw them stealing memories from Derek or implanting new ones. He saw as Derek was forced to drink goblets filled with their semen and urine. He evens saw as the Alphas transferred memories of what they’d done to their own slaves into Derek’s mind. He was surprised Derek was even able to tell what was real and what wasn’t.

Deucalion came inside Stiles before making the young beta come five more times. “Derek didn’t even resist me and I did that to him. Can you imagine what Peter will do to you when I teach him how?” Deucalion asked.

“He’ll destroy me…” Stiles whimpered.

“He’ll destroy your mind. Your body will be right here, taking Derek’s seed and putting out the next generation of werewolves. And every once in a while, I’ll sneak in here and fuck you so well you remember for a moment who you are and where you are… just long enough to cry at the position in which you find yourself… and then you’ll feel me come inside you before I let you slip back into the dark wasteland your mind will inevitably become,” Deucalion growled as he pulled out and left the cell. Stiles fell into unconsciousness as he felt the Alpha’s semen dribbling out of his abused asshole.

* * *

 

Stiles awoke in a strange place. Derek was at his side, holding his hand. There was a tube in his mouth, choking him. He began to panic. “He’s awake!” Derek called. Stiles couldn’t move his head to look around. He saw someone move into place and order Derek to hold him down. The tube was pulled out of his throat, forcing him to cough and choke. He tried to sit up, but Derek wouldn’t let him 

“What’s going on? Where am I?” he asked.

“You’ve been unconscious,” Derek told him.

“For how long?"

“Six weeks,” Derek replied. Stiles looked down to see his stomach particularly larger than he remembered it.

“What did Deucalion do to me?” Stiles asked 

“I don’t know,” Derek said softly. “But you’re going to have our baby soon.”

Stiles could see the excited lights dancing in his Mate’s eyes. He wondered how Derek was able to be so brave in light of what had been done to him. “Are you alright?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah. Since you were out, Peter let me be at your side. Chris came in to visit you a few times… but it’s just been me and the doctors in here with you,” Derek told him.

“Deucalion showed me what he did to you…” Stiles said softly. “I’m… I’m so sorry…”

“It’s alright. What Deucalion doesn’t know is that love can even heal the mind from wounds inflicted by Alphas,” Derek said. “I held on to my family… my mother, father, sisters. Their love is what got me through it until I met you. I have memories from other people inside my head, but my memories are still all there.”

“You love me?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah,” Derek replied. “I do.”

“I love you too.”

They spent several hours in each other’s arms, talking about small things. Both were really just happy for the companionship.

Peter finally came in. “He’s awake…” Derek’s hand was resting on Stiles’ belly. The baby seemed to be active. “Shall we prepare to welcome the newest Hale into the world?” A nurse approached and removed a catheter that Stiles didn’t even know he had in him, before removing his dick entirely. Peter thanked her and then dismissed her. The moment he did, he pulled off his clothes and climbed into the bed with Stiles. “I’m going to use my pheromones to sedate you, but also to prepare and change your body for childbirth.”

Stiles was not shocked to feel Peter hoist his legs up and push into him. Derek turned away, not wanting to watch Stiles getting fucked. It didn’t take long for Stiles to feel his Alpha come, and then the completely out-of-it drugged feeling that came after. Peter pulled out and put his clothes back on. “That should begin the process of him developing a birth canal. Labor will begin within 24 hours of that. Within the next few days, you’re going to be a father, Derek. But you can speed that up by fucking him as much as possible.”

Derek narrowed his eyes. He hated that his lovemaking to Stiles was dictated by Peter. “Why are you being so helpful?”

“This is my grand-niece or nephew I’m about to deliver,” Peter said. “I have a duty to ensure that the delivery goes as smoothly as possible.”

He left the two betas alone. “Do you want to?” Derek asked Stiles.

“Maybe in a bit,” Stiles said. “I just want to lay with you first.” And so they did, discussing what they would name their child after it was born. They kissed a little and listened to the baby’s heartbeat.

“It’s strong,” Derek noted. “Like yours.”

Their lovemaking was simple and pleasurable. The birth canal formed in Stiles’ empty spot. Derek assured him it would go away after the baby was born. Isaac’s had.

* * *

 

The labor took several hours. Stiles was in complete agony through it all, but he squeezed Derek’s hand tightly as Peter guided him through it. “You’re almost there, Stiles… just a little further…”

“You’re doing great, Stiles,” Derek said. “You’re doing so great. Just keep pushing.”

“I can see the head,” Peter announced. “Push, Stiles.”

“I’m trying… I can’t push any more…”

“Come on, Stiles,” Derek said, placing a kiss on his Mate’s forehead. “I believe in you.”

Stiles looked into Derek’s eyes, seeing the love and adoration he felt. He had no energy left, but was able to find at least some reserves from which he gave a final push, forcing into it everything he had. Peter pulled the baby out. “Congratulations, you two… it’s a boy.” Peter cut the umbilical cord and brought the baby over to the sink where he washed the amniotic fluid off of it.

“Can I see him?” Stiles asked weakly. He could feel his body already trying to heal. “I want to see my baby…”

“No,” Peter replied, walking out the door with the baby in his arms.

“PETER NO!” Stiles screamed, trying to follow Peter. Derek knew he’d get hurt so he held Stiles in his arms, squeezing him tightly as he screamed out for their son. “I didn’t get to see his face…” Stiles lamented. “I didn’t even get to see him…” The two held each other, crying into each other’s shoulders.

* * *

 

The next day, Stiles body returned to the way it had been before he became pregnant, so he and Derek were moved back into the breeding cells. They spent the day lying in one another’s arms. Neither dared to talk about what had happened the day before, since both were heartbroken by it 

“What’s wrong with you two? You just became fathers. I’d think you’d be happier,” their Alpha said as he walked into the cell.

“I never even got to hold my son,” Stiles said, his voice as limp and empty as his body felt.

“If you behave, I’ll let you see him,” Peter said. “And now, I need Derek to impregnate you again.”

“You took our son away from us before we even had a chance to see his face. Why would we give you another one of our children?” Derek asked, standing up. He looked ferocious and animalistic. “Why would we give you any more ammunition to use against us?”

“Because your son has not yet been reported to the government,” Peter said. “It’d be such a shame if something happened to him because his parents failed to obey me.”

“You’d really hurt your grand-nephew just to force our obedience?” Derek asked.

“I enslaved you and I’d rip out your throat right now if I didn’t need you to keep knocking him up,” Peter replied. “What do you think?”

Derek shook his head. “Hell will be too good of a fate for you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Peter said sarcastically. “Now fuck your Mate. Do it quickly, because you both are going to be entertaining in the VIP suites and you need to go through training.” He walked out, leaving them alone.

“Stiles… I’m so sorry,” Derek said softly as he attached his dick and climbed back into bed. “I really am.”

“It isn’t your fault our owner is Satan,” Stiles replied, moving into position. Physically, he had completely healed from the ordeal of childbirth. Mentally, he wasn’t even close to healed. But Peter’s warning was clear. He needed to do whatever it took to keep his son safe. And good behavior could translate to even a moment with his baby.

It was the least emotionally-invested sex he and Derek had to date. Both knew that their hearts weren’t in it. They just needed to get the deed done.

When he’d finally come, he crawled back to Stiles’ side.

It wasn’t long until Chris came to fetch them both. The training consisted of Chris teaching Stiles how to be the active partner during sex. “The VIP suites are different from the brothel. You’re still at the client’s mercy, and you’ll still be penetrated by the client, but you’ll often be the one doing all the work. You’ll also spend much more time with the client and will essentially become his personal slave during his stay here.”

Chris reclined on a bed and ordered Stiles to bring him to an erection. Stiles used an expeditious combination of oral and manual stimulation to do it. Chris then ordered him to climb on top, facing away and slowly lower himself onto the dick. Derek was being forced to do the same thing to the other Trainer in the bed next to them. Stiles had never seen that trainer before, but he treated Derek decently, which Stiles figured had a lot to do with Chris’ orders.

“Alright, Stiles… Once I’m all the way inside you, you’re going to immediately start riding me at a medium pace. Don’t let me slip out of you… but don’t let me come too soon, either. Even if it hurts, keep going until you’re told otherwise,” Chris said. Pain didn’t bother Stiles as much as it used to… especially after giving birth.

He listened to Chris’ heart rate to determine how close he was to orgasm and slowed down when he heard it begin to race, but sped up when he heard it calm back down. Chris complimented him, as the other trainer gave Derek pointers.

After several hours of Stiles and Derek just riding their trainer’s cocks, they were ordered to stop. “Alright. Now I mentioned that you’ll basically be the guest’s personal slave. There will be times when the client will take control during sex. During these moments, you’re not only permitted, but encouraged to grunt and moan… Even if it doesn’t hurt. It boosts their ego and often makes them think that they’re better endowed than they really are… or that they’re brutalizing you more fully than they think they are. The suites have cameras in them, so if we see them try to do something that poses a serious risk, guards will intervene… but given that you’re both werewolves, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Stiles and Derek were taken to be cleaned, shaved, and fed before Chris brought them to the suites they would be serving in. “Peter has ordered you to both serve one client. It’ll be a test. If you fail, you go back to the brothels. If you pass, then this is where you’ll be stationed when you’re not mating… or in your case, Stiles, until you begin to show.”

“And what happens when I begin to show?” Stiles asked.

“You’ll become Peter’s personal slave until you give birth, then you and Derek will mate again and the cycle will repeat,” Chris replied. As they approached the suite Derek would be serving in, Chris made sure to mention, “When the client first enters the room, you are to be bent over the bed, ass ready to be mounted. The client will fuck you to claim you as his property for his stay. After that, you’re to clean his cock off and ask how he wishes you to serve him. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” both slaves replied.

Chris allowed Stiles and Derek to hug and kiss each other before they were separated. “I’ll see you soon,” Derek promised, the taste of his kiss lingering in Stiles’ mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Stiles replied, squeezing him tightly once more before Chris led him away, up three flights of stairs and to the room he’d be serving in.

“Behave, Stiles. It’s the only way you’ll be kept out of the brothel and be allowed to see your son,” Chris warned. “Peter will do whatever it takes to control you. But it’s no longer just your life on the line.”

“I know,” Stiles said. “I’ll behave… but only for my son.

Chris hugged Stiles before letting him into the room and shutting the door behind him. Stiles dared not sit on the bed, so he stood there, unsure where to put himself. Stiles was able to find a dick he attached to himself to pee, before placing it beneath the bathroom sink, where he found it. It was several hours before the client finally showed up. He raced into position, leaning against the bed, his ass out and ready to be fucked.

The door opened and the scent of his client hit him. It was familiar… warm… inviting. Stiles was certain he’d smelled this man before, but he couldn’t place the scent and he didn’t dare look around. He kept his eyes straight ahead, ready to be fucked. He felt arms wrap around him, embracing him warmly. Stiles resisted the urge to sigh. He preferred it when clients simply treated him as a piece of meat. It made his time alone with Derek more special.

“You’ve already forgotten me?” the silky voice asked. Stiles turned around, seeing a familiar face behind him.

“Jordan!” he exclaimed, though restrained himself enough to avoid hugging him, knowing that there were cameras. He also knew that Peter would likely be watching them. This meant that they would _have_ to have sex. Making sure that his face was not visible to the camera, he whispered, “Order me to join you in the bathroom.”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Jordan said. “Follow me.”

When they were safely away from the spying eye of the camera, Stiles hugged Jordan. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to pass along a message from your dad. He spoke to a lawyer. They’ve petitioned the court for an expedited hearing and the courts granted it! It’s in three months and he’s positive he’s going to get you free. I’ve looked over the argument and documentation myself and I have to say… I’m pretty excited for you,” Jordan told him. “And the judge who’s going to hear the case is pretty well known to be anti-slavery.”

Stiles felt a knot form in his stomach. He wanted to cry. For the first time in a while, he felt hope. “Thank you,” Stiles whispered as he hugged Jordan again. “Thank you so much!”

“I’ve also gotten my fraternity to take an anti-slavery mentality. We’re even raising money to help pay for your release… though I’m pretty sure the lawyer is going to go pro bono on this one. It’s kind of a landmark case, and if it goes through, there will likely be a lot of other people who hire that lawyer to fight their cases. So if that’s the case, we’ll use that money to help pay for Derek’s release,” Jordan added.

“That’s so amazing!” Stiles whispered, unable to contain his tears. “But we have a problem…”

“What?”

“A couple of problems, actually,” Stiles clarified. “For one… I’ve been bred. Peter has my son. I can’t leave him behind, but I have no rights to him since I’m a slave.”

“Your father does. We can petition your father to gain custody,” Jordan said. “And if the judge finds that the terms of your slavery were broken, then you will be considered ‘wrongfully enslaved’ backdated to the date you were turned… which means your parental rights will be restored.”

That news elated him, but then there was still the other problem. “Peter is using my son as a way to make me behave. I’m already pregnant again. He wants my time in the VIP suites to be a testament to the fact that I’m going to obey. That means that you have to have sex with me while you’re here. At least a few times in the suite and once in the museum.”

“I’m not sure if I can,” Jordan said softly. “I promised I’d help you… I can’t just use you like that. You’re my friend, Stiles. Friends don’t hurt each other.”

“I know… and I’m very sorry. If Peter weren’t watching me like this, I would never ask you to do something like this. But Peter is going to hurt my baby… please, Jordan… I have to do whatever it takes to protect him,” Stiles begged. Jordan remained silent for several minutes. Stiles could tell how much Jordan didn’t want to do it. And to be honest, if he saw any other recourse, Stiles really didn’t want him to do it, either. Stiles liked having one man in his life, other than his dad, who he could say he had never had sex with. “I understand how awkward and strange this is, but you were a former slave… you know what it’s like to have to compartmentalize. Sex can be just that… sex,” Stiles added.

“But sex isn’t _just_ sex for me anymore,” Jordan replied. “Please understand that.”

“I do,” Stiles said softly. “Which is why you’re one of the only people I would ever trust in this regard.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this… but yes. I’ll do it. But only for this one visit and then it will never happen again,” Jordan said.

“I understand,” Stiles said. “And quite frankly, I’d prefer if it happened that way.”

Jordan was nothing if not a good actor. Stiles was just glad that he used the traditional slave positions so that he wouldn’t have to see the look of hurt on his friend’s face as they did what needed to be done in order to appease Peter. The sex itself was actually very good. Stiles was pretty sure that if he’d had his dick attached, he would have come from Jordan alone.

Unfortunately, afterwards, Jordan seemed distant. “What’s wrong?” Stiles asked.

“Is there somewhere we can go that isn’t the bathroom where we can speak in private?” Jordan asked.

“The majority of the grounds are open, but I can’t promise that Peter won’t be able to listen,” Stiles replied. They ended up walking to areas of the grounds that Stiles had never been. Peter’s scent couldn’t be detected, which told him that Peter didn’t often come to this area. “So please… tell me what’s wrong.”

“What I just did to you was wrong,” Jordan said. “I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it by telling myself that it was to save your son… but I can’t do it again.”

“It’s alright… Peter likely saw it,” Stiles replied.

“My master whored me out to anyone who was willing to stick it in me. He didn’t charge much for me, either. I was forced to fuck and be fucked. But after a while, I started thinking of my body as an object… it was like I inhabited it, but it wasn’t mine. I began to think the way I can tell you’re thinking now. What could I do to ensure that I lived to see the next day? I could use my body. My master beat me for things as simple as the weather not being what he wanted it to be. But if I did a good job of pleasuring him when he fucked me, I was able to earn my survival. It’s a terrible way to live, Stiles. I went through it for years. By the time you stuck up for me and freed me, I didn’t think anything of his actions because I was his property. I firmly believed it. So the weather was overcast when the forecast said sunny. Obviously that was my fault,” Jordan said. “And I understand… it was for your son and my promise to help you extends to him. But please, Stiles… don’t lose yourself in this process. Your body isn’t just two warm holes for a man to fuck. The Stiles I know is intelligent and thoughtful… The Stiles I know is worth much, _much_ more than that.”

Stiles listened to Jordan speak, but there was that same level of dissonance. On one hand, he knew that Jordan’s words were true. On the other hand, he needed to do whatever it took for his son. Jordan wasn’t a parent. He didn’t understand that, Stiles thought. “Until I’m free, my ability to dictate anything about my body is gone. I _have_ to think like that because if I don’t… Peter will kill my child… and the one growing inside me. 

Jordan nodded. “I get it. Just… try to hold on to who you are.”

* * *

 

Jordan only had the suite for one night. It was all they could afford. After a tearful goodbye, Stiles was in charge of cleaning the room and himself to make sure he was ready for the next guests to use the suite… and him.

He was standing in the waiting position when his next guests walked in. The door had barely closed when Stiles felt a cock pushing into his backside. “Dennis… you won’t believe this…” the man using him grunted. “It’s so fucking tight…. And it’s ours for the entire week.”

These men put Stiles’ limits to the test. By the time their week was done, Stiles could barely walk. Chris needed to carry him into Peter’s suite. “You did well, Stiles.” Peter said. “As promised…” Peter pulled out a photograph, tossing it toward the slave. Stiles scrambled for it. The little boy was so beautiful as he slept. Stiles let his fingers trace the contours of his child’s face.

“I didn’t even get to name him,” Stiles sobbed. “He doesn’t even know who I am.”

“He doesn’t need to,” Peter replied coldly.

“You promised me I could _see_ my son,” Stiles said boldly. “This photograph… that doesn’t hold up your end of the bargain.”

“If you don’t want it, you can give it back,” Peter replied, but Stiles held the picture close to his chest, where he knew he ought to have been holding his actual child. “That’s what I thought. Now you’ll be serving me until you have your next child.”

Stiles looked down at his belly, which was already protruding slightly. He wasn’t going to let Peter take this one from him. He wasn’t going to allow this one to not be named…. To not know that it was loved. “How can I serve you, sir?” Stiles asked as he looked up.

Peter smirked. “That’s more like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter seemed like a clusterfuck... My brain was kind of all over the place while I was writing it.


	9. Scared No Longer

Ennis was a big man… in every sense of the word. Porn was only a natural career option and for a while, he was successful. But once slave porn became an established genre, Free porn actors were quickly becoming a thing of the past. Even though, as a straight man, he had only ever starred in straight films, knew he needed to diversify, so he headlined in a gay film. He had anal sex with women on screen all the time. All he had to do was close his eyes and it was the same thing, he reasoned. And the pay check would be enough to ensure he had a place to live for a little while longer.

But even that became too much. There were boundaries Ennis wouldn’t cross. He refused to be penetrated on screen. He was straight… he was a man. That was for gay men and slaves, he though. It was a mentality he was raised with and it was a mentality he still held as he found himself chained to a bed, his still-healing barcode tattoo on display for the young slave boy watching as their master prepared himself for his Right. Ennis contemplated the chain of events that led from him being a successful porn actor to the slave of Peter Hale, about to be fucked for the first time. And when his two years were up, he would never be able to do porn again. His brand would be useless. Peter had assured him of that. Peter told him in great detail how he intended to make as many videos of Ennis fucking and getting fucked as he could.

So Ennis, the big, strong man whose legendary genitals and sexual prowess had earned him world-wide fame, felt small for the very first time in his life as he watched his new owner shove his famous, yet now detached cock into another slave’s ass. He watched as Peter walked back over to him. He begged for Peter not to fuck him. He had never been fucked before. Ennis screamed out as he felt his owner enter him for the first time. There had been no preparation, just an abundance of lube.

“Stiles, turn around so he can see what his dick looks like inside you while I fuck him,” Peter ordered, entombing the rest of himself inside Ennis, whose face was red as he tried to hold back the tears that were welling in his eyes. “He _is_ going to spend the entire day fucking you, tomorrow.”

Stiles strained to move. Ennis had an impossibly large dick. But he didn’t dare disobey… not until he got to see his son. He turned around, leaning against the wall, showing the poor slave his detached cock, which was buried all the way inside his ass. Tears streamed down Ennis’ face and he tried to struggle against the chains and break free. It was instinct and Stiles could smell the fear and humiliation that was permeating the room. Peter wasted no time getting to a pace that sounded brutal. Ennis screamed and grunted, trying in vain to get free, but still his owner found a way to thrust harder and deeper until he felt the thing that he had feared most. He felt the emasculating sensations of Peter coming inside him and he sobbed.

Peter looked small in comparison to the man he just fucked, but as Stiles turned his head to see him, he felt guilty for the sense of relief that for the first time in a while, it wasn’t his ass or mouth that was being fucked by the Alpha. Peter pulled out and called for two guards. “Take Ennis to a cell. Bring Stiles, too. The two costars should get to know one another before they film tomorrow.”

“Please sir, no…” Stiles pleaded.

“I bought Ennis so that I could make a fortune off of him fucking various slaves in our stock. You’ll be the first one… as a test,” Peter said.

“And then can I see my son?” Stiles asked, resigning himself to the fate Peter had already determined for him.

“You’ll see your son when I decide you can… and the more money I have to spend fighting your father’s intrepid lawyers, the less likely it becomes,” Peter growled. “Besides… you’ll start showing soon, too. I have to capitalize on whatever I can until the judge puts a stay on my use of your image. I’ll regain that privilege after I win the trial, though, Stiles… and then I’ll make you pay for all of the trouble your father put me through,” Peter added. He then turned to the guards. “Take them out of my sight now.”

Ennis lumbered, disoriented and confused, as he followed the men leading them to an 8-by-8 cell and locking them in. He didn’t know how to feel about what had just happened to him. He just knew he needed to do something that would make him feel at least somewhat like a man again. He pulled his cock out of Stiles who started to thank him, after having walked half a mile with it shoved deep inside his asshole. But Stiles’ expression of gratitude stopped immediately when Ennis pushed him against the bars of the cell and shoved his now reattached cock back in to the hilt.

Stiles screamed. It was the most painful thing he had experienced to date as a slave on the compound. “Please stop!” he begged Ennis over and over. “Please… it hurts…”

“I’m not a fag,” Ennis kept whimpering over and over. “I’m not a fag…”

Stiles squeezed the bars tightly as Ennis brutalized him. He had enough strength to at least keep Ennis at bay, but knew that even the slightest mark on the brute’s skin would result in severe punishment. He missed Derek sorely, and found himself even missing the last two weeks he had spent at Peter’s side. It was preferable to this.

His days as Peter’s personal body slave were long and arduous. He spent the entire day in silence, waking his Owner up with a blow job. He then drew a shower, where he stood and washed Peter’s body, often getting fucked before the shower was over. The rest of the day he was close by Peter’s side. Whenever Peter was seated at a table or desk, Stiles was underneath it, nursing on Peter’s cock, sometimes for hours. There had been several instances in which Peter met with potential business partners and granted them use of Stiles’ body as incentive or bribery.

If the meeting happened on the Museum property, Stiles would be taken to a VIP room, where he spent two hours servicing the man before being expected to clean himself before presenting himself to Peter once more, where he would often just stand in a corner waiting for Peter to use him again, sometimes for hours. Occasionally Master Rafael would appear and use him for a while, but Stiles just took it. He had to in order to ensure his son’s safety.

As Ennis finished inside him, he was still repeating his mantra of “I’m not a fag!”

“And yet you just fucked a guy as a show of how incredibly heterosexual you are… bravo,” Stiles snapped.

“Watch how you speak to me,” Ennis warned.

“Why? You’re just a slave now… like me. And you know what… I used to watch your porn. I used to fantasize about what it might like to be you… or to be with you. I guess it’s true what they say about meeting your heroes. You were the least-memorable fuck I’ve ever had,” Stiles replied. “And considering I’ve been fucked by almost 9,000 men in my time as a slave… that’s truly saying something.”

“I’m going to have fun tearing you apart when we’re on film tomorrow,” Ennis hissed into Stiles’ ear.

“I’m a werewolf. I’ll be fine,” Stiles replied. “I’ll even heal from what you’ve done to me today. But rest assured… by the time you walk again as a free man, your asshole will be as big as your fucking ego.”

Ennis pulled out of him and slammed him against the concrete walls of the cell, knocking him out.

When he woke up he was strapped into a swing and Chris was setting up the cameras. Stiles tried moving his arms and legs, but it was no use. They were strapped tightly to the chains that held up the swing, leaving him at the mercy of the man who was going to use him. A slave was on his knees in front of Ennis, struggling to get him hard enough to prep him. “Chris…” Stiles called.

Chris instantly moved to his side. “Hey Stiles,” he said. He leaned down and kissed him in a way that caught Stiles completely off guard. “That was from Derek,” he added as he pulled away.

“So he’s safe?” Stiles asked breathlessly.

“He’s serving in the staff brothel today. Danny has been brought here to perform with Ennis,” Chris told him.

Stiles’ nostrils flared angrily. “Haven’t they both suffered enough?” Stiles thought about how he had come close to sharing Danny’s fate… spending day after day handcuffed to a bed as a steady stream of employees fucked him. It had been his unwillingness to submit to Peter’s authority that had saved him, but had ultimately gotten him into a situation where Peter could now do whatever he wanted and Stiles had no ability to fight back… not if he wanted to ever see his son again.

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Chris admitted before finishing the preparations. Stiles was not going to have his cock for this performance. It was deemed that the audience would respond better to the idea of Ennis having his way with a helpless slave boy.

Ennis was told that it was Peter’s orders to be as brutal as he wanted, the audience will love it more. “Oh I intend to be,” he replied in a way that caused Stiles and Chris to exchange worried glances. Stiles put his hand on his stomach fearful for the danger Ennis’s actions might cause the baby growing inside him. Chris stepped outside the area that could be caught on camera. A slave applied lube to Stiles and quickly ducked out of sight as well.

Chris stood behind the director who yelled “Action!” as Ennis stepped up and took his place between Stiles’ legs. He pushed in and Stiles screamed. Ennis was making sure he paid for the things he said the night before. Apparently being knocked unconscious didn’t seem to count.

Stiles’ body struggled to accommodate the long, fast strokes. It felt as though he was ripping and healing over and over again. He struggled against the restraints, struggling to keep from shifting as fearful instincts began to kick in. He knew that Ennis could last a very long time, and indeed he did.

And Ennis was allowed to orgasm twice. Once inside Stiles and another that he sprayed all over Stiles’ stomach. The director called “CUT!” and Chris helped him out of the swing. Stiles stumbled as his body strained to recover from what had been done to it.

“How are you feeling?” Chris asked him.

“You just watched what happened to me. How the hell do you think I’m feeling?” Stiles snapped.

“You’re right,” Chris said. He ordered a guard to bring Stiles to the breeding pens. As they began walking, Chris added, “I’ll be by to check on you later.”

The walk was difficult for Stiles, who wasn’t healing as quickly as he ought to have. He could feel Ennis’ semen slowly dribbling out of him. When he was finally thrown into the cell, he couldn’t believe how happy he was to see the horridly small cell. It had more comforts to allow for him to comfortably give birth. It smelled like Derek, causing his stomach to flutter in a way that made him wonder if it was his love for Derek or the child growing inside him recognizing the scent of its father.

He had no idea how long he was alone in the cell. But by the time they brought Derek in, he felt he hadn’t seen his mate in forever. Derek looked exhausted. Stiles could smell the semen drying on his legs. Without the guards to support him, Derek collapsed. Stiles rushed to his side, cradling his beloved’s head in his lap. “Derek…” he said softly.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Derek whispered. Stiles moved him over to the bath area where he warmed the water and gently scrubbed his Mate clean, removing from him the traces of seed placed there by men. “Let me return the favor to you,” Derek said. The touch of his Mate had returned some of his strength to him and he felt refreshed by the bath.

Stiles enjoyed the touch of his Mate on his skin and the way Derek’s hand lingered on his growing belly. The baby kicked, causing Derek to look into Stiles’ eyes in delight.

“Do you think we’ll have a daughter next?” Stiles asked.

Derek shrugged. “Did Peter ever let you see our son?”

The smile faded from Stiles’ face. “No… he didn’t.”

Derek fought the tears that threatened to escape his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I did everything he asked… I did my best, Derek… but he’s finally found the one thing he can use against me to render me helpless…” Stiles started.

Derek pulled him close, holding Stiles’ head against his chest. “I know, my love… I know.”

“I don’t want Peter to take this one from us. Why can’t we raise our own children?” Stiles cried.

“Because we would raise them to be loving children and teach them to despise what has been done to them and their parents,” Derek replied.

“He’s not taking this one,” Stiles vowed. “I’m not going to lose another child to him.”

“How do you intend to prevent him? In case you forgot, he owns us _and_ he’s our Alpha,” Derek said.

“He’s only our Alpha because we agree to recognize him. It’s as simple as refusing his authority,” Stiles said, the rebellious sentiments beginning to stir within him.

“We’ll be killed,” Derek warned.

“We’re werewolves. We’re Apex Predators,” Stiles replied dismissively.

“He would rip the baby out of your belly just because you said that,” Derek whispered.

“Don’t you see? That’s the problem!” Stiles insisted. “Regardless of what you and I have done… our children should not suffer because of it!”

“I agree,” Derek snapped. “But what are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t now… but we’re not supposed to just allow this to happen.”

* * *

 

Stiles was kept in the cell for the remainder of his pregnancy. Derek was occasionally brought out to perform in the Museum. He was forced to make several videos with Ennis. Each time he was brought back, Stiles would wash him up and they would hold each other for a few moments and Stiles’ resolve to change their situation grew ever stronger.

Stiles no longer wanted a simple rejection of Peter’s authority. He became hungry for fully-fledged rebellion. He wanted to spark a revolt that would be remembered for centuries. He wanted to make sure that anyone around the world who claimed ownership over another person was scared so thoroughly that they immediately freed their slaves. He wanted the slaves not otherwise freed to look at his example and rise up, themselves. And as long as Derek survived to look after their children, Stiles was prepared to become a martyr for his cause.

The closer Stiles got to term, the more time Derek was permitted to spend with him and in the final week of his pregnancy, they were together around the clock. They watched every kick their baby made until Stiles knew it was time. He grasped tightly onto Derek. “I need you to make me a promise,” he said urgently.

“Of course,” Derek said.

“Be the one who gets our baby first… and don’t let go. Whatever you do… don’t let go of it…” Stiles begged. “Please don’t let Peter get it.”

“I’ll do my best, but if he orders me… I won’t be able to do much,” Derek said hesitantly.

“Just try… please promise me you’ll try,” Stiles pleaded. After several hours, the birth canal began to form. Stiles looked fearfully to Derek. “Peter didn’t cause it…”

“Maybe he didn’t need to,” Derek suggested. “You’ve given birth once already… maybe your body knows how to do it now?”

A powerful burst of pain ripped through him. Stiles recognized it as a contraction. His labor had begun.

Derek stayed at Stiles’ side, siphoning off pain as best he could while still coaching his Mate through it. He prayed silently that there be no complications since he had no idea how to deal with them. “Keep pushing,” he coached. “I can see our baby’s head.”

Stiles screamed as he pushed again, It seemed to be all Derek needed to pull the baby out. He cut the umbilical cord. “Let me see!” Stiles said immediately, taking no time to recover from the ordeal his body had been put through. He didn’t need to. He was already healing.

“I’m going to wash him up first,” Derek said.

“Another boy?” Stiles breathed.

“Yeah,” Derek replied. “He’s beautiful. He looks just like I did when I was a baby.”

It took several minutes for Derek to clean off the afterbirth, but he joined Stiles in the bed as soon as he did. The baby was tucked into his arms. Stiles counted the fingers and toes. He memorized every feature of his baby. “What should we name him?” Stiles whispered, afraid his voice would startle the beautiful child.

“I’ve always loved the name Elliot,” Derek suggested thoughtfully.

“It’s perfect… Elliot Charles Hale,” Stiles said. “ _He’s_ perfect.”

They had a scant twenty minutes with their son before Peter burst into the room. “You should have called for me!” he snarled.

“There wasn’t any time… it happened suddenly,” Derek challenged, putting himself between Peter and Stiles.

“Sit down!” Peter snarled. The weight of the command forced Derek to act. Peter strode lazily to the slave holding his baby tightly. “At least you birthed a healthy son. This time you even managed to make sure he was a wolf. I won’t have to kill it.”

The breath caught in Stiles’ throat as he realized what Peter said. His first son was dead. “You’re a monster…” he choked out. “He was an innocent baby!”

“He was useless. I tasked you with providing wolves… not human brats,” Peter said nonchalantly.

Rage built quickly within him. He carefully laid his son on the bed, standing in front of Peter. His body was weak from blood loss and exhaustion, but his grief and rage empowered him. “Who was that baby you showed me in the picture?”

“It was my son with Rafael,” Peter replied. “Yeah… I lied to you, but you’re my slave. It’s not like I’ve never lied to you before.”

“You killed my son!” Stiles screamed. He slashed wildly at his master who grabbed his wrists and shoved him. Stiles shot Derek a look that his Mate understood instantly: Protect Elliot at all costs. Stiles didn’t care if his life was lost, so long as Elliot and Derek were saved. “You lied to me,” Stiles growled as he pulled his arm free of Peter’s grip.

“It wasn’t the first time, and it wasn’t the last,” Peter replied, stepping forward. He didn’t flinch or blink. Stiles was _his_ beta. He wasn’t afraid of what he had created.

Stiles saw the fearlessness in his Alpha’s eyes. Some would have seen it as strength or courage, but Stiles saw it for what it truly was: arrogance. He shifted, harnessing all the rage he could muster. Every last thing that had been done to him. Every man he was forced to let fuck him. Every time his flesh was sold as one business transaction or another. Every time he had to see the shame Derek held in his eyes after the abuses he suffered. Every time Stiles and Derek were forced to fuck rather than make love as they wanted to. He thought about the fact that Derek was made to establish the Mate bond with him against his will. And then he thought about “It will be pretty hard for you to lie to me when your windpipe is splattered against the cell wall!” he growled as he swiped, claws extended. The claws gripped into the side of Peter’s throat. The momentum combined with his strength, he made sure that Peter would never be able to lie to him again.

Derek turned away, protecting Elliot from the gush of hot, thick blood that sprayed out, and dripped down Stiles’ face. Stiles felt a sudden burst in power as Peter’s body slumped down, the remainder of his blood pooling at his and Derek’s feet. “Is it safe?” Derek asked timidly.

“Yes,” Stiles replied. “It’s safe.” Derek turned around to see his mate dripping red in the blood of their former Alpha, his eyes more intensely red than the hot, thick blood that covered him. “Peter will never hurt another person I love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAnnndddddd Boom goes the dynamite.
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	10. Epilogue

The dream haunted Stiles every night. In it, he was tied to a bed and an endless line of men were there to fuck him. He always woke up with his fangs and claws bared, sweat pouring from his body, his breath seeming to escape him, and his heart thundering and a fearful scream waking up everyone else.

This night was no different. Stiles walked shirtless to the room down the hall where his son slept peacefully in the crib next to the child who would grow up as his brother. Stiles could still remember internal struggle he fought to raise the child as his own… to look upon the child of the men who had owned him and who had raped him… and to call that boy “son.”

“If Elliot doesn’t carry the label of ‘slave’ even though he’s ours, then Scott shouldn’t carry the sins of his fathers,” Derek told him as he caressed the boy’s sweet face. “We’ll surround him with love and teach him to be kind and noble.”

Stiles understood Derek’s urge to protect the child… he was a Hale, too. Rafael hadn’t parted with him easily, though. Stiles had forced him to free all of the slaves, save for Ennis and anyone who had been convicted of violent crimes. When he was done, Stiles removed from him any memory of his son and of the slaves he freed and then implanted the memory of killing Peter and ordered Rafael to delete the video footage and take the fall for killing Peter.

Ennis was brought somewhere cameras couldn’t see and Stiles beat him until Derek finally told him to stop. “You can’t be like Peter. You have to be the leader Peter wasn’t. You have to be able to show mercy.”

“You don’t know what this scumball did to me,” Stiles spat.

“Probably the exact same thing he did to me. Revenge is the quickest way to become like Peter. Don’t do it…” The way his voice pleaded was the only thing that kept Stiles from killing Ennis.

But all of that was behind him. Isaac and Stiles were given every cent that had been charged for them after they were turned. The judge said that although it was despicable, Peter and Rafael legally had the right to profit from their rape until Stiles and Isaac were turned.  Derek was returned everything that had ever been charged for them. They were each independently wealthy. But the money didn’t take away the pain, the fear, or the nightmares. Money didn’t fix the fact that Stiles had panic attacks when people hugged him, or accidentally brushed up against him.

Derek and Jordan were always there to help him when the world began to spin and his breath caught in his throat.

* * *

Stiles finally understood what Chris had meant by the world outside not making sense after being a sex slave.

Therapy could only accomplish so much as his werewolf metabolism burned through any medications prescribed before they could have an effect. So Stiles relied on the medicine of familiarity. In the town where they finally moved to after Jordan finished his degree, there was a public brothel where men and women could sell their flesh or the flesh of those they owned (more often the latter than the former) for a few extra bucks.

The bed was cold and gross, just like the brothel at the Museum. Stiles laid on his stomach as his first client walked in. The man put 50 bucks on the bedside table. It was much less than he had previously commanded for his ass, but the man was good-looking. He was much too good looking to need to pay for sex, but he paid, which mean that he had 30 minutes with Stiles. The man was nice. He tried to make sure that Stiles came before he did, but Stiles assured him he didn’t need to worry about that.

Derek knew immediately what had happened. Stiles had tried to wash it away, but Derek smelled it on his skin. “Why?” he asked. He wasn’t accusing or confrontational. Certainly he was hurt, but he genuinely needed to know why Stiles would visit the brothel.

Stiles began to cry. “I’m sorry, Derek… I am here every single day taking care of our sons. And it’s like I’m a person again and I don’t know how to handle that.”

“You can talk to me, you know…” he said. “I’m hurting too, Stiles. I need you.”

“I just… I look in the mirror and the man looking back at me isn’t someone I can respect. Sure… I have the red eyes of an alpha, but my pack is you and my children. How are they ever going to respect me if they find out what happened to me? I’m useless… I’m useless as a father and I’m useless as a person. The only time I have ever been useful was when I was enslaved,” Stiles said. “The closest thing I can get to that is letting a few guys fuck me in a brothel.”

Derek shook his head, reaching forward to pull Stiles close. “No… you were useful when you saved Jordan’s life. And you gave me a beautiful baby boy and my freedom. You’re my Mate and I love you, Stiles.”

“I know…” Stiles said softly. “It’s just for a few moments… I had a purpose again.”

Derek squeezed Stiles even tighter. “We can get through it together.”

And so they did. It took a while before Stiles stopped going to the brothel altogether and could feel like a whole person without whoring himself out.

For a while, he needed to lean heavily on Derek to even summon the will to live. Derek feared he might kill himself, but Stiles loved his sons too much to do that.

It was Scott and Elliot’s concern for him that brought him out of his depression. “Papa we want to play!” Scott had insisted, with Elliot doing his best to rush behind his big brother.

“Papa’s tired… as Daddy…” Stiles had said.

“No…” Elliot replied. He had finally reached his “No” stage. “No no no no no!

Scott climbed up on the bed. “Are you mad at us?”

“No! Of course not… I love you!” Stiles replied, Scott’s question like a dagger.

“But you never play with us!” Scott insisted.

“Papa is just sad…”

“Playing will make you happy!” Elliot insisted. 

Stiles smiled, jealous of his son’s innocence. “Alright… I’ll play."

* * *

 

It took a few more years before Stiles and Derek were able to make love without the events of their past hanging over them. Stiles never forgot the lights in his eyes when he said he was going to be having another baby, a girl this time. The boys insisted on helping find the new house that would be big enough.

“Can we get bunk beds?” Elliot asked. Scott loved the idea.

“Yeah! Can we? Please!”

“I don’t see why not…”

Existence became less painful… and eventually joyful. Surrounded by his family, which included Danny, Isaac, Isaac’s son, and Jordan who was running for senate on an anti-slavery platform, Stiles was able to look toward the future without regret or shame.

His children eventually found out, but Stiles was the one who told them. Stiles feared their judgment and rejection but his fears were unfounded. They hugged him. Scott cried a little. But Elliot told Stiles that he had been brave and that he was proud of him.

As Stiles healed, his leadership as an Alpha was sought by surrounding Alphas. He took a seat on the Werewolf Regulatory Council and brought Deucalion to justice for his help in Peter’s false enslavement of Derek, and the awful things that he had done.

For the first time in a very long time, he was finally free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this! I hope you liked it. If you did, check out the new story I'm working on called "The Legend of Greystone Manor"


End file.
